When it was all over Frau Nirlanger beckoned me, and she, Dr. von Gerhard and I stole out into the hall and stood at the foot of the stairway, discussing our plans for the future, and trying to smile as we talked of this plan and that. Frau Nirlanger, in the pretty white gown, was looking haggard and distrait. The oogly husband was still in the dining room, finishing the beer and punch, of which he had already taken too much. “A tiny apartment we have taken,” said Frau Nirlanger, softly. “It is better so. Then I shall have a little housework, a little cooking, a little marketing to keep me busy and perhaps happy.” Her hand closed over mine. “But that shall us not separate,” she pleaded. “Without you to make me sometimes laugh what should I then do? You will bring her often to our little apartment, not?” she went on, turning appealingly to Von Gerhard. “As often as Mrs. Orme will allow me,” he answered. “Ach, yes. So lonely I shall be. You do not know what she has been to me, this Dawn. She is brave for two. Always laughing she is, and merry, nicht wahr? Meine kleine Soldatin, I call her. “Soldatin, eh?” mused Von Gerhard. “Our little soldier. She is well named. And her battles she fights alone. But quite alone.” His eyes, as they looked down on me from his great height had that in them which sent the blood rushing and tingling to my finger-tips. I brought my hand to my head in stiff military salute. “Inspection satisfactory, sir?” He laughed a rueful little laugh. “Eminently. Aber ganz befriedigend.” He was very tall, and straight and good to look at as he stood there in the hall with the light from the newel-post illuminating his features and emphasizing his blondness. Frau Nirlanger’s face wore a drawn little look of pain as she gazed at him, and from him to the figure of her husband who had just emerged from the dining room, and was making unsteady progress toward us. Herr Nirlanger’s face was flushed and his damp, dark hair was awry so that one lock straggled limply down over his forehead. As he approached he surveyed us with a surly frown that changed slowly into a leering grin. He lurched over and placed a hand familiarly on my shoulder. “We mus’ part,” he announced, dramatically. “O, weh! The bes’ of frien’s m’z part. Well, g’by, li’l interfering Teufel. F’give you, though, b’cause you’re such a pretty li’l Teufel.” He raised one hand as though to pat my check and because of the horror which I saw on the face of the woman beside me I tried to smile, and did not shrink from him. But with a quick movement Von Gerhard clutched the swaying figure and turned it so that it faced the stairs. “Come Nirlanger! Time for hard-working men like you and me to be in bed. Mrs. Orme must not nod over her desk to-morrow, either. So good-night. Schlafen Sie wohl.” Konrad Nirlanger turned a scowling face over his shoulder. Then he forgot what he was scowling for, and smiled a leering smile.