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.
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