Читать книгу Hidden Foes; Or, A Fatal Miscalculation онлайн

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He was smoothly shaven, his features wasted and wan, his thin lips of a dull, grayish tint, instead of a wholesome red, as if the blood in his veins had lost its crimson hue. His nose was long, his eyes a cold blue and wonderfully penetrating. As he stood there with his slender hands behind him, his fingers interlocked, there was something really quite sinister in his aspect. He looked not unlike a bird of prey brooding over his victim.

This was immediately dispelled, however, when he looked up at the nurse and said, with a remarkably soft and ingratiating voice:

“She appears to be in the same condition, Agnes, as the others. She was found on the same seat, did I understand you to say?”

“Yes, doctor.” The nurse bowed to him across the narrow cot. “This policeman discovered her. He had her brought in, sir, instead of taking her to the station house, as before.”

Doctor Devoll turned and eyed Donovan narrowly for a moment; then suavely inquired:

“Is your beat in this locality?”

“It is, sir,” said Donovan respectfully. “I’m the night patrolman, sir.”