The doctor’s emotion prevented him from speaking, and the detective answered in his place.  “It is a sudden indisposition,” he said.  “Lead me to No. 302, who is waiting for us, I suppose.  The doctor wants to lie down a moment in his own room.”

Gyuri glanced distrustfully at this man whom he had met for the first time to-day, but who was no stranger to him—­for he had already learned the identity of the guest in the rectory.  Then he turned his eyes on his master.  The latter nodded and said:  “Take the gentleman to Varna’s room.  I will follow shortly.”

The cell to which they went was the first one at the head of the staircase.  “Extremely convenient,” thought Muller to himself.  It was a large room, comfortably furnished and filled now with the red glow of the setting sun.  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.  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 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.