Frederik Grimm was standing, nerveless, dazed, where Kathrien's impulsive opening of the door had disclosed him. Dully, he stared from one to another of the three who confronted him. It was Kathrien who first spoke. Pointing toward the photograph that still lay on the desk, she said:
"Frederik, you have heard from Anne Marie."
His lips parted in denial. Then he saw the picture, started slightly, and lapsed into a sullen silence.
"You have had a letter from her," pursued Kathrien. "You burned it. And you tore that picture so that we would not recognise it. Why did you tell Marta that you had had no message—no news? You told her so, since that letter and photograph came. You went to Anne Marie's home, too. Why did you tell me you had never seen her since she left here? Why did you lie to me? Why do you hate her child?"
Frederik made one dogged effort to regain what he had so bewilderingly lost.
"Are—are you going to believe what that brat says?" he muttered.
"No," retorted Kathrien. "But I'm going to find out for myself. I am going to find out where Anne Marie is before I marry you. And I am going to learn the truth from her. Willem may be right or wrong in what he thinks he remembers. But I am going to find out, past all doubt, what Anne Marie was to you. And, if what I think is true——"
"It is true," interposed McPherson. "It is true, Kathrien. I believe we got that message direct."
"Andrew is right, Katje," prompted the Dead Man. "Believe him."
"Yes!" cried Kathrien, as if in reply. "It is true. I believe Oom Peter was in this room to-night!"