We followed him along a corridor into a big room looking out on the river, where an oldish fellow sat in an arm-chair by a stove, writing letters with a fountain pen.
This was Posselt, who had been Governor of Erzerum till he fell sick and Ahmed Fevzi took his place.

He had a peevish mouth and big blue pouches below his eyes.

He was supposed to be a good engineer and to have made Erzerum impregnable, but the look on his face gave me the impression that his reputation at the moment was a bit unstable.
The staff-officer spoke to him in an undertone.
'Yes, yes, I know,' he said testily.

'Are these the men?
They look a pretty lot of scoundrels.

What's that you say?
They deny it.