A turning-lathe stood by the window and
an elderly man was at work at it. Gyuri called to him and he turned
and rose when he saw a stranger.
Lajos Varna was a tall, loose-jointed man with sallow skin and
tired eyes. He gave only a hasty glance at his visitor, then looked
at Gyuri. The expression in his eyes as he turned them on those of
the warder was like the look in the eyes of a well-trained dog when
it watches its master's face. Gyuri's brows were drawn close
together and his mouth set tight to a narrow line. His eyes fairly
bored themselves into the patient's eyes with an expression like
that of a hypnotiser.
Muller knew now what he wanted to know. This young man understood
how to bend the will of others, even the will of a sick mind, to
his own desires. The little silent scene he had watched had lasted
just the length of time it had taken the detective to walk through
the room and hold out his hand to the patient.
"I don't want to disturb you, Mr. Varna," he said in a friendly
tone, with a motion towards the bench from which the mechanician
had just arisen. Varna sat down again, obedient as a child. He
was not always so apparently, for Muller saw a red mark over the
fingers of one hand that was evidently the mark of a blow.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83