REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Tolerantly.] Well, well.  Good-night. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY follows him in the hall.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY.  Good-night, Henry; I’ll be home to-morrow.  You’ll be glad to see me, dear, won’t you?

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  My church mouse! [He pats her cheek, kisses her good-night and goes.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Who has gone to the door of her room—­giving DR. MACPHERSON a parting shot.] Write as much as you like, Doctor; words are but air.  We didn’t see Peter Grimm and you know and I know and everybody knows that seeing is believing.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Looking up.] Damn everybody!  It’s everybody’s ignorance that has set the world back a thousand years.  Where was I before you—­Oh, yes. [Reads as MRS. BATHOLOMMEY leaves the room.] “I assisted in the carrying out of his instructions.” [FREDERIK GRIMM enters.

FREDERIK.  Anybody in this house come to their senses yet?

DR. MACPHERSON.  I think so, my boy.  I think several in this house have come to their senses.  Catherine has, for one.  I’m very glad to see you back, Frederik.  I have a few questions to put to you.

FREDERIK.  Why don’t you have more light?  It’s half dark in this room. [He picks up the lamp from the DOCTOR’S table and holds it so that he can look searchingly in the direction of the desk to see if PETER’S apparition is still there.  His eye is suddenly riveted on the telegram resting against the candlestick on the desk.] Is that telegram for me?

DR. MACPHERSON.  Yes.

FREDERIK.  Oh....  It may explain perhaps why I’ve been kept waiting at the hotel.... [Tries to go to the desk but cannot muster up courage.] I had an appointment to meet a man who wanted to buy the gardens.  I may as well tell you, I’m thinking of selling out root and branch.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Amazed.] Selling out?  Peter Grimm’s gardens?  So this is the end of Peter’s great work?

FREDERIK.  You’ll think it strange, Doctor; but I—­I simply can’t make up my mind to go near that old desk of my uncle’s....  I have a perfect terror of the thing!  Would you mind handing me that telegram? [The DOCTOR looks at him with scarcely veiled contempt, and hands him the telegram.  After a glance at the contents, FREDERIK gives vent to a long-drawn breath.] Billy Hicks—­the man I was to sell to—­is dead.... [Tosses the telegram across the table towards DR. MACPHERSON, who does not take it.  It lies on the table.] I knew it this afternoon!  I knew he would die ... but I wouldn’t let myself believe it.  Someone told it to me ... whispered it to me....  Doctor, as sure as you live—­somebody else is doing my thinking for me in this house.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Studying FREDERIK.] What makes you say that?

FREDERIK.  To-night—­in this room, I thought I saw my uncle ... [Pointing towards the desk.] there.