CHAPTER II
THE MAN IN GREY
Young Guild looked steadily at the man in grey, and the man in grey gazed as steadily back from behind his desk.
He was a man of forty-five, lean, well built, blond, and of regular features save that his cheek-bones were a trifle high, which seemed to crowd his light blue eyes, make them narrower, and push them into a very slight slant. He had the well-groomed aspect of a Prussian officer, dry of skin, clean-shaven save for the mustache en croc, which his bony but powerful and well-kept hands absently caressed at intervals.
His forehead was broad and benevolent, but his eyes modified the humanity and his mouth almost denied it—a mouth firm without shrewdness, not bad, not cruel for the sake of cruelty, yet moulded in lines which promised no hope other than that iron justice which knows no mercy.
"Mr. Guild?"
"Yes, General."
General von Reiter folded his bony hands and rested them on the blotter.