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. Gyuri was not very choice in the methods by which he controlled the patients confided to his care.
“May I sit down also?” asked Muller.
Varna pushed forward a chair. His movements were like those of an automaton.
“And now tell me how you like it here?” began the detective. Varna answered with a low soft voice, “Oh, I like it very much, sir.” As he spoke he looked up at Gyuri, whose eyes still bore their commanding expression.
“They treat you kindly here?”
“Oh, yes.”
“The doctor is very good to you?”
“Ah, the doctor is so good!” Varna’s dull eyes brightened.
“And the others are good to you also?”
“Oh, yes.” The momentary gleam in the sad eye had vanished again.
“Where did you get this red scar?”
The patient became uneasy, he moved anxiously on his chair and looked up at Gyuri. It was evident that he realised there would be more red marks if he told the truth to this stranger.
Muller did not insist upon an answer. “You are uneasy and nervous sometimes, aren’t you?”
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