The Four Corners Abroad

The young man who was standing a few paces off suddenly came forward. "Nan, Nan Corner," he exclaimed. "What are you doing wandering about Munich alone?"

A friendly voice and a solicitous one. Nan looked up. "Dr. Paul," she cried, "of all people. Oh, I am so glad to see you." She explained the situation, ending with: "I know the keys must be somewhere, but they are not in my bag." Again she searched nervously.

"Let me hold your bag," said Dr. Paul. "And you look in your pocket, if you have any."

Nan gave a little laugh, and put her hand in her coat pocket but the keys were not there. Suddenly her hand went up to the chain around her neck and then down to her belt. "I remember," she said, a little abashed, "I took the keys from the bag and put them on the chain so as to be sure not to lose them, and I was so perfectly carried away by the music I forgot I had done it. Here they are, Dr. Paul. I am glad I didn't ring again for evidently the maids weren't roused by the first ring."

Dr. Paul turned the key in the lock and they stepped inside, the great door closing with a clang after them. All was dark and silent.

"Goodness!" cried Nan, "and they said they would have a light for me. Imagine coming home at ten o'clock at night anywhere in America and finding it like this."

"They certainly drive their thrift beyond the point of necessity, it seems to me. I have some matches in my pocket; I will strike a light and we will look for the stairs."

"We only came to the pension to-day and that is why I don't remember exactly in the dark," said Nan. "How long have you been here, Dr. Paul?"

"I came to town yesterday. My pension is a block further on. I am with a German family whom some friends recommended to me, and I think I shall be very comfortable. They speak North German, which is an advantage. I was going to look you all up to-morrow. Your Aunt Sarah told me I should probably find you here."

"And shall you stay long?"

"Several months. I am here for some special courses, and for hospital work."

"Then we shall see you often."

"You can count on that. Here are the stairs and I see a glimmer of light on the next floor. We'll follow it up and probably will find your candle."

They stumbled up the winding stairs which grew lighter as they mounted. At the top they found a night lamp on a table and a row of candles set in line. Each candlestick bore a slip of paper. The pair examined these gravely. "Zimmer ten, Pension Bauer," read Nan. "I suppose that must be mine. Ours is the next flight up. We are on the second floor, or what they call second over here; we would say third."

"I'll go up with you to keep off the bugaboos," said the doctor taking the lighted candle from her hand and following her up.

At the head of the stairs Nan turned. "How will you get out?" she asked. "I am sure the front door shut with a spring lock. I will go back with you."

"Then I'll have to see you to your door again."

"And we might keep that up indefinitely." They both laughed softly.

"Give me your key," said the doctor, "and I'll let myself out. I will bring it to you in the morning. You will not want it till then?"

"No, indeed, but I hate to think of your going down in the dark."

"Do you think I'm afraid of the dark, Nan Corner?"

"Of course not, but – "

"You are, I verily believe."

"Not exactly, only it would have been sort of boogy and spooky if I had to come through that court and up that first flight by myself."

"And it would not have been the proper thing for you to do."

"Nobody ever imagined that in this age such a necessity would arise. We will all petition for a light at the very entrance. I know mother and Aunt Helen will be horrified at this outer darkness. I was so thankful to see you, though at first – "

"Own up you were scared."

"Yes, I was, and with good reason. I saw you stop and I tried to climb in through the keyhole or the crack of the door, but couldn't. Oh, but I was thankful it was you, and I remember it isn't the first time you've proved a friend in need. I don't forget last year. Be sure to come early to-morrow. I am wild to hear all about Aunt Sarah and the boys, not to mention all the other dear people at home. Good-night. Won't you take my candle, even if you don't the candlestick?"

"No, I would dribble the grease all over myself. Good-night and thanks for the key."

Nan stood holding the candle over the baluster until the last footfall had ceased and then she unlocked the door which led into Fräulein Bauer's apartment. She found her mother and her Aunt Helen waiting for her. A tray on the table held rolls and butter, some slices of cold ham, a glass of milk and a compote of apples. "I am so glad you waited up for me," said the girl as she came in.

"It isn't very late," said her aunt, "so it is nothing of a favor."

"I know it isn't, but it seems as if I had been away days."

"Has it been as great as all that?" asked her mother. "I am glad to see you back safe and sound. Fräulein Bauer said she would have a candle below for you, so I knew you would find your way in."

"Yes, but it is as dark as pitch on the ground floor, and it isn't like it is in Paris where the concierge is right at hand to let you in if necessary. I suppose there is a Hausmann, but there are no signs of his having rooms anywhere about."

"And you say there is no light at the entrance?"

"Not a glimmer; it is as black as a wolf's mouth."

"That will never do," said Mrs. Corner decidedly. "We can never in the world stay here under such conditions. Suppose we have callers in the evening, what is to be done?"

"Give it up," returned Nan.

"And for ourselves, a party of ladies coming in after dark to be obliged to enter a dark court and come up as dark a stairway is not to be thought of. That must be remedied at once. I shall see to it to-morrow."

"So the opera was great, was it, Nan?" said her aunt.

"I should think it was. I will tell you all about it presently. At first I didn't believe I could ever think of anything else for days, but I had an adventure and – "

"What do you mean, Nan?" asked her mother in alarm.

Then Nan told about the missing key, the meeting with Dr. Paul Woods and the journey up-stairs. "I was scared to death at first," she admitted.

"I was right in my misgivings about letting you go off alone," said her mother. "I cannot understand how Frau Burg-Schmidt should have left you to come in by yourself."

"She didn't think anything of it, for there were ever so many girls coming home by themselves. Frau Burg-Schmidt did get out with me, of course, and would have come all the way, but she had to change cars and her car happened to come along right away, so as she knew I had a key and that I was but a few steps from the door she left me. If I hadn't been so stupid as to forget about changing the keys from the bag to the chain it would have been all right. No, it wouldn't have been quite all right, for I should have had to grope my way up that dark stairway alone. Oh, but I was glad to see Dr. Paul. He always was a dear. Wasn't it strange that it should happen to be he who came along at just the right moment?"

"It certainly was most fortunate," acknowledged her mother. "Is he to be here for any length of time?"

"Oh, my yes. He is going to do some studying and we shall see him often. Now I will tell you about the opera. It was heavenly, and the stage setting was perfectly fine. I shall never forget that beautiful blue and silver Lohengrin and I was so mad with Elsa for doubting him, yet I was sorry for her, too, because it was all that wicked Ortrud's fault. The music was divine. Such an orchestra! and Knote sang like an angel; you never heard a more beautiful voice, and oh, mother, it was so perfectly fine to have Frau Burg-Schmidt explain the different motives to me and tell me when they came in. You have no idea how much more interesting it made it. She is going over the score with me and wants me to learn to distinguish for myself. I think I can pick out several already. She is so enthusiastic and rouses your ambition so you want to do your very best."

"But I cannot excuse her leaving you in the street like that, and I am afraid I cannot allow you to go out with her, if there is a chance of such a thing occurring again."

"Oh, mother, please don't say that, and please don't say anything to her about it, for I think she is very sensitive and high-strung, and it really was my fault for being so stupid as to forget where I put the keys."

"That may have been a part of the trouble, but a woman of Frau Burg-Schmidt's experience should know better than to desert a young girl like you at this time of night in a foreign city." Then seeing Nan's look of distress, she added, "However, we will not talk any more about it now, but provide against such a contingency next time. Did you have good places?"