r had not misjudged him
when he decided that this young giant was capable of anything. Good and
evil often lie so close together in the human heart.

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 det