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.

DR. MACPHERSON. Eh?...