“Petersen,” he said, “some day you’ll understand. And I hope you’ll---- But I can’t expect it.... Only, before I go, I’d like you to know that--I’m not so bad as I seem.--I--I _realise_.... I hope I’m going to be killed. Perhaps that’ll wipe out--this. You might--in that case--not judge me so--you might--have mercy....” CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR I Mr. Petersen was thankful to escape from the house the next morning. After what a night! No sleep for anyone; even the baby had been awake and crying half a dozen times. Minnie had opened her attack on Alec. Mr. Petersen heard her, hour after hour, raging, crying, pleading with him in his room. Time after time he had tried to go out, but she would spring in front of him and bar the door. “You’ve _got_ to listen to me!” she shrieked. At last, very reluctantly, Mr. Petersen felt obliged to intervene. He knocked on the door two or three times unheard, for the storm was raging wildly. Then he turned the knob and walked in. Minnie was on her knees, clasping Alexander tightly, while he stood, white and cold, not even looking at her. Mr. Petersen was shocked and for the first time angry at Minnie. “Get up!” he commanded. “This is disgusting!” She turned her face, blistered with tears, to him. “Don’t, don’t, _don’t_ let him go!” she cried, “Chris, for Heaven’s sake----!” He made the fatal mistake of trying to argue with her. He was quiet and reasonable, and she aped his manner to perfection. Argued with him, the distorted and plausible arguments of a madwoman, became quiet, scornful. She involved him in a maze, bewildered and confounded him, and made it more and more difficult for him to keep his temper. Alec gave him sound advice. “It’s no use talking to her,” he said. “She never _listens_.” They all became violent and rude. Sandra waked up and came running in, barefooted, wide-eyed, pale, stood listening for a long time. Then the baby began to cry again and Minnie hurried to it, but when Alec tried to escape downstairs, she flew after him, baby in arms, and again barred his way. An awful night! Mr. Petersen unlocked his office and sat down with a great sigh. Never suspecting the far more awful night that was drawing in upon him. The climax, which so strangely and regularly occurs in human affairs, the definite point of departure, of division between the old days and the new, was approaching. His doom drew near. He had just begun to lose himself in his business papers when there was a rap at the door. It was too early for Miss Layne; he was rather surprised; he called out “Come in!” and the instrument of fate entered. It was Frances. He was astonished and pleased. He had always admired Frances. He brought forward a chair. “Miss Defoe!” he exclaimed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you!” “Five years, nearly,” she answered with a sigh and a smile. “But you haven’t changed a bit!”