He could move quietly enough when he chose.

He glanced at the Wanderer.
"He looks comfortable enough," he whispered, half contemptuously.
Then he bent down over Israel Kafka and carefully examined his face.

To him the ghastly pallor meant nothing.

It was but the natural result of excessive exhaustion.
"Put him into a lethargy," said he under his breath, but with authority in his manner.
Unorna shook her head.

Keyork's small eyes brightened angrily.
"Do it," he said.