Freder touched the man’s arm. The man started, struck dumb.
His hand lost its hold of the lever and leaped into the air like a shot bird. The man’s jaws stood gaping open as if locked. For one second the white of the eyes in the stiffened face was terribly visible. Then the man collapsed like a rag and Freder caught him as he fell.
Freder held him fast. He looked around. Nobody was paying any attention, either to him or to the other man. Clouds of steam and fumes surrounded them like a fog. There was a door near by. Freder carried the man to the door and pushed it open. It led to the tool-house. A packing case offered a hard resting place. Freder let the man slip down into it.
Dull eyes looked up at him. The face to which they belonged was little more than that of a boy.
“What is your name?” said Freder.
“11811....”
“I want to know what your mother called you....”
“Georgi.”
“Georgi, do you know me?”
Consciousness returned to the dull eyes together with recognition.