FRED-M-WHITE


23834.1.50

HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY
CRVARDIA
ET
VERI
ISTO
EMIA
ECCLES
TAS
CHRIS
10N.N
ESTAE
OVO
VINY:
GIFT OF
JAMES STURGIS PRAY
Charles Eliot Professor of Landscape Architecture
To be kept in the main collection of the
College Library














THE YELLOW FACE


BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Crimson Blind
The Corner House
The Weight of the Crown


THE
YELLOW FACE
BY
FRED M. WHITE
Author of
“ The Crimson Blind,” “ The Corner House”
“ The Midnight Guest,” etc.
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
18 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK
F. V. WHITE & CO.,
LONDON


23834,1.50
HARYARD COLLECE L127:3Y
GIFT OF
JAMES STURGIS PRAY
Sept. 15, 1922
COPYRIGHT, 1907
By R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
"The Yellow Face"


CONTENTS
.
TURNE
.
.
.
.
.
I. NOSTALGO . . . . .
II. THE CHOPIN NOCTURNE . . ..
III. THE MYSTERY OF THE STRINGS . .
IV. The SPEAKING LIKENESS
V. A VANISHED CLUE
VI. Vanished! . . . . .
VII. No. 4, Montrose Place . .
VIII. The CHOPIN FANTASIE . .
IX. The Man With The Fair Moustache .
X. What Did SHE KNOW? . .
XI. The Shadow ON THE Wall . .
XII. Locked IN! .
XIII. The Parable .
XIV. NOSTALGO AGAIN
. 104
XV. Lady BARMOUTH
. . 110
XVI. The Bosom Of Her Family
118
XVII. Which Man Was IT? . .
XVIII. THE EMPTY ROOM . .
131
XIX. A BROKEN MELODY .
· 137
XX. The MOUSE IN THE TRAP .
144
XXI. A LEADER OF Society .
151
XXII. THE PORTRAIT ..
XXIII. Face to Face.
• 165
XXIV. IN THE SQUARE . . . . . 173
.
124
158
·


Contents
. 179
. 187
193
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.
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.
.
200
206
213
219
226
233
. 240
247
.
.
.
254
.
.
.
.
.
.
XXV. ON THE TRACK . . .
XXVI. Serena AGAIN . . .
XXVII. In the SMOKING-Room .
XXVIII. The Lamp Goes Out ..
XXIX. The Silver Lamp . .
XXX. BEDROOM 14 . . .
XXXI. A Chance ENCOUNTER . .
XXXII. LADY BARMOUTH'S JEWELS .
XXXIII. Gems or Paste? . . .
XXXIV. IN THE Vault . . .
XXXV. The Cellini Plate
XXXVI. A STROKE OF POLICY .
XXXVII. A PREGNANT Message .
XXXVIII. The CRY IN THE Night .
XXXIX. PREPARING The Way ..
XL. The Magician Speaks.
XLI. THE WORM TURNS
XLII. A PIECE OF Music
XLIII. The Trap is BAITED . .
XLIV. THE SUBSTITUTE .
XLV. Caught!
XLVI. The Music Stops . . .
XLVII. « A Woman SCORNED". .
XLVIII. The PROOF OF THE CAMERA.
XLIX. Proof Positive . .
L. ON THE BRINK . . .
LI. AGAINST THE WORLD . .
LII. THE END OF IT ALL . .
.
262
269
276
283
290
297
. 304
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.
311
318
. 325
. 332
· 339
346
. 353
. 360
. 367


THE YELLOW FACE





THE YELLOW FACE
CHAPTER I
NOSTALGO
THE flickering firelight fell upon the girl's pretty,
thoughtful face; her violet eyes looked like deep lakes in
it. She stood with one small foot tapping the polislicid
brass rail of the fender. Claire Helmsley was accounted
fortunate by her friends, for she was pretty and rich, and
as popular as she was good-looking.
The young man by her side, who stood looking moodily
into the heart of the ship-log fire, was also popular and
good-looking, but Jack Masefield was anything but rich.
He had all the brain and all the daring ambition that
makes for success, but he was poor and struggling yet, and
the briefs that he dreamed of at the Bar had not come.
But he was not thinking of the Bar now as he stood by
Claire Helmsley's side. They were both in evening dress,
and obviously waiting for dinner. Jack's arm was around
Claire's slender waist, and her head rested on his shoulder,
so that by looking up she could just see the shadow on his
clean-cut face. Though the pressure of his arm was strong
and tender, he seemed as if he had forgotten all about the
presence of the girl.
“Why so silent ?" the girl said. “What are you
thinking about, Jack ?"
“Well, I was thinking about you, dearest,” Jack re-
plied. “About you and myself. Also of your guardian,
Anstruther. I was wondering why he asks me so often
and leaves us so much together when he has not the slight-
est intention of letting me marry you."
The girl colored slightly. The expression in her violet
eyes was one of pain.


10
The Yellow Face
“ You have never asked my guardian," she said. “We
have been engaged now for over six months, Jack, and
at your request I have kept the thing a dead secret. Why
should we keep the matter a secret? You are certain to
get on in your profession, and you would do no worse if
the world knew that you had a rich wife. My guardian
is kindness itself. He has never thwarted me in a single
wish. He would not be likely to try and cross my life's
happiness."
Jack Masefield made no reply for a moment. It was
perhaps a singular prejudice on his part, but he did not
like the brilliant and volatile Dr. Spencer Anstruther, who
was Claire's guardian. He would have found it impos-
sible to account for this feeling, but there it was.
“My guardian has plenty of money of his own," Claire
said, as if reading his thoughts.
“ There you are mistaken," Jack replied. “This is a
fine old house, filled with beautiful old things. Anstruther
goes everywhere ; he is a favorite in the best society. Men
of letters say he is one of the finest talkers in the world.
But I happen to know that he has very little money, for a
lawyer told nie so. That being so, the £2,000 a year you
pay him till you marry or come of age is decidedly a thing
to take care of. On the whole, dearest, we had better go
on as we are.”.
Claire had a smile for her lover's prejudices. Personally
she saw nothing amiss with her guardian. She crossed
over to the window, the blinds of which had not yet been
drawn, and looked out. She looked across the old-fash-
ioned garden in front of the house to the street beyond,
where a few passengers straggled along. On the far side
of the road stood an electric standard holding a flaring
lamp aloft. The house opposite was being refaced, so
that it was masked in a high scaffold.
As was the custom in London, the scaffolding had been
let out to some enterprising bill-posting company. It was
a mass of gaudy sheets and placards puffing a variety of
different kinds of wares. In the centre, bordered by a
deep band of black, was one solitary yellow face with dark


Nostalgo
11
hair and starting eyes. At the base was the single word
“ Nostalgo."
An extraordinary vivid and striking piece of work for
a poster. The face was strong and yet evil, the eyes were
full of a devilish malignity, yet there was a kind of laugh
in them too. Artists spoke freely of the Nostalgo poster as
a work of positive genius, yet nobody could name the
author of it. Nobody knew what it meant, what it fore-
shadowed. For two months now the thing had been one
of the sensations of London. The cheap Press had built
up legends round that diabolically clever poster ; the head
had been dragged into a story. The firm who posted
Nostalgo professed to know nothing as to its inner mean-
ing. It had become a catchword; actors on the variety
stage made jokes about it. But still that devilish yellow
face stared down at London with the malignant smile in
the starting eyes.
" Jack, they have put up a fresh · Nostalgo' poster on
the hoarding opposite,” Claire said. “I wish they hadn't.
That face frightens me. It reminds me of somebody."
"So it does me,” Jack replied, with sudden boldness.
“It reminds me of your guardian.”
Claire smiled at the suggestion. The guardian was a
large, floridman, well-groomed and exquisitely clean.
And yet as Jack spoke the yellow face opposite seemed to
change, and in some way the illusion was complete. It
was only for an instant, and then the starting eyes and the
queer smile that London knew so well were back again.
"You make me shudder," Claire said in a half-fright-
ened way. “I should never have thought of that. But as
you spoke the face seemed to change. I could see my
guardian dimly behind it. Jack, am I suddenly growing
nervous or fanciful ? The thing is absurd."
“Not a bit of it,” Jack said stoutly. “ The likeness is
there. It may be a weird caricature, but I can see it quite
plainly. Don't you recall how Anstruther breaks out into
yellow patches when he is excited or angry? I tell you I
hate that man. I may be nonsensical, but —
Jack paced up and down the room as if lost in thought.


12
The Yellow Face
The light was shining on the face on the hoarding-
it seemed to look at him with Spencer Anstruther's
eyes.
" There is something wrong in this house," he said.
“I feel it. You may laugh at me, you may say that I am
talking nonsense, but there it is. The strange people who
come here - "
"Sent by the police mainly. Don't forget that my
guardian is one of the greatest criminologists of our time.
There is no man in London who can trace the motive of a
crime quicker than Mr. Anstruther. There was that mar-
velous case of those missing children, for instance "
"Oh, I know," Jack said, with some suggestion of im-
patience in his voice. “And yet, if you don't mind, we
will say nothing of our engagement at present."
Claire contested the point no longer. After all she was
very happy as things stood. She had plenty of chances
of meeting her lover, and Mr. Anstruther seemed to be
altogether too wrapped up in his scientific studies to notice
what was going on under his very eyes. He came into the
room at the same moment humming a fragment of some
popular opera.
There was nothing whatever about the man to justify
Jack Masefield's opinions. Spencer Anstruther was calcu-
lated to attract attention anywhere. The man was tall and
well set up, he had a fine commanding face softened by a
tolerant and benign expression. People looked after him
as he walked down the street and wondered which popular
statesman he was. In society Anstruther was decidedly
welcome, amongst men of learning he was a familiar figure.
His scientific knowledge was great, certain publications of
his were regarded in the light of text-books. Altogether
he was a man to cultivate.
“I am afraid that I am late, young people," he said in
a smooth, polished voice. “I hope you have been able
to amuse yourselves together in my absence. You look
moody, Jack. Don't those briefs come in as freely as you
would like? Or have you been quarreling?"
“ No, sir," Jack replied. “We never quarrel; we are


Nostalgo
13
are
too good friends for that. We have not the excuse in that
way that lovers are supposed to possess."
"We have been studying that awful poster," Claire said.
“I wish somebody would take it away. Jack is always
seeing some likeness in it. He says that you - "
The girl paused in some confusion. Anstruther smiled
as he put up his glasses.
" It is a complex face,” he said. “Whose features
does it remind you of just now, Jack?".
“ Yours," Jack said boldly. He flashed the word out
suddenly. Half to himself he wondered why he always
felt a wild desire to quarrel with this man. “I hope you
won't be offended, sir, but I can see a grotesque likeness
to you in the famous repellent Nostalgo."
Claire looked up in some alarm. She was wondering
how her guardian would take it. The log fire in the grate
shot up suddenly and illuminated Anstruther's face. Per-
haps it was the quick flare that played a trick on Claire's
fancy, for it seemed to her that suddenly Anstruther's face
was convulsed with rage. The benign pink expression had
gone, the features were dark with passion, the fine speak-
ing eyes grew black with malignant hatred. Claire could
see the hands of the man clenched so hard that the
knuckles stood out white as chalk. And there with it all
was the likeness to Nostalgo that Jack had so boldly al-
luded to. The fire dropped and spurted again, and when
it rose for the second time the face of Spencer Anstruther
was smooth and smiling.
Claire passed her handkerchief across her eyes to con-
centrate the picture of fiendish passion that she had seen.
Was it possible that imagination had played some trick on
her? And yet the picture was as vivid as a landscape
picked out and fixed upon the retina by a flash of light-
ning on a dark night. The girl turned away and hid her
white face.
" I should like to meet the artist who drew that face,"
Anstruther said, with a smile. “One thing I am quite
certain of—it is not the work of an Englishman. Well,
it has found London something to talk about, and the ad-


14
The Yellow Face
vertisement is a very clever one. I dare say before long
we shall discover that it is exploited in the interest of
somebody's soap."
“I am inclined to favor the view that Nostalgo is
something novel in the way of a thought-reader or a
spiritualist,” Jack said. “It seems to me "
The dining-room door was thrown open by a woman
servant, who announced that dinner was served. They
passed across the hall into a large dark-walled room, the
solitary light of which was afforded by a pair of handsome
candelabra on the table. There were not many flowers,
but they were all blood red, with a background of shiny,
metallic green. The woman who waited passed from one
plate to another without making the slightest sign. As
she came into the rays of the shaded candles from time to
time Jack glanced at her curiously. She was dressed in
sombre, lustreless black, with no white showing at all.
There was no cap on her head-nothing but a tangle of
raven-black hair. Her brows were black and hairy, her
skin as dark, so that her faded eyes were in striking con-
trast to her swarthy appearance. Her hands were very
strong and capable, the mouth firm to the verge of cruelty.
And yet there was something subdued, something beaten
about the woman, as if she had been taken in a wild state
and tamed. Anstruther seldom addressed an order to her
in words; a motion of the hand, the raising of an eyelid
seemed to be sufficient for those pale, tired eyes, which
somehow never for one instant relaxed their vigilance.
The woman was a mystery of the house ; she seemed
to be entirely dominated by her master's will. And yet
there were strength and passion there, Jack felt certain.
The fanatic only slumbered. A pansy fell from one of
the flower vases, and Jack started out his hand to replace
it.
"Did you ever see the evil face in the heart of a pansy
blossom ?” he asked, for there was a pause in the con-
versation. “It is a demon face-and familiar too. Miss
Helmsley, whose face does this saffron heart of the pansy
remind you of ?"


Nostalgo
15
Claire took the pansy from Jack's hand and studied it
with a frown on her pretty face.
“Why, of course,” she cried. “I see what you mean.
It is Nostalgo, the man with the yellow face."


The Chopin Nocturne
17
coat pocket, he was not visible, though he could see what
was going on in the hall behind him.
There was a spot of light at the head of the staircase.
Somebody was standing there looking down into the hall
-somebody in a rough jacket buttoned to the throat and
wearing a pair of rubber-soled shoes, for the intruder made
not the slightest noise. Jack wondered if some impudent
burglar was raiding the house at this hour. If so, he
would get a warm reception presently. Jack stood there
as the figure came down the stairs and turned along a cor-
ridor to the left of the drawing-room. But there was no
challenge and no fight, for the simple reason that in the
hall light, as the stranger passed, Jack recognized the face
of Spencer Anstruther. There was no doubt about it ;
there was no possibility of a mistake here.
Inside the study the music once more began. Very
gently Jack tried the handle of the door, but it was locked.
Under ordinary circumstances this would have excited no
suspicion; perhaps there was another way into the room
by way of the corridor. But if so that did not explain
why Anstruther was creeping about his own house in the
semblance of a burglar, and wearing rubber-soled shoes.
There was something creepy about the whole business.
Jack returned to the vestibule again, and from there he
passed into the garden. The study was at the side of the
house, and a belt of shrubs outside afforded a pretty good
cover. There was the study under with the blinds down
and a strong light inside. Jack noted that it was a
French window, a window frequently used, because the
stone step outside had been worn by the pressing of many
feet.
The smooth melody of Chopin was playing on inside.
Jack stooped down to where he could see the lace flowers
on the blind, and looked into the room. There was a
little slit in the blind where the sun had worn it, and by
this slit the whole of the room could be seen. The music
had softened down to a piano passage taken very slowly.
But Jack was not thinking of the music now at all, though
the strains were soothing and flowing enough.


18
The Yellow Face
He rubbed his eyes to make sure that they did not de-
ceive him. No, the room was plain enough, so was the
sound of the music. And with it all the room was abso-
lutely empty!


CHAPTER III
THE MYSTERY OF THE STRINGS
It was the most extraordinary thing in the world. Be-
yond question the room was absolutely empty. Jack could
see to the far side; he noted the pictures and the flowers
and the vases on the mantelpiece. His view was naturally
narrowed by a small spyhole, but there was no portion of
the room hidden from him, though he could not quite see
the whole of it at one time.
The music was proceeding quite smoothly, though with
pauses now and again. It was followed now and then by
what sounded like subdued applause.
Jack stepped back from the window. He wanted to
make certain that he had not mistaken the room. No, the
sounds of music came from the study right enough. At
the risk of being discovered he crept back into the house
again and tried the study door. It was locked, and what
was more, the key was in the lock, as the application of an
eye testified.
And the music was proceeding quite swiftly again. The
mystery was absolutely maddening. Jack wondered if
there was some cabinet in the study hidden from view
where the player had taken up his stand. At any rate
somebody was playing Chopin's music playing it very
well. There was no magic about the thing.
The hall of the house was very quiet, nobody seemed
to be about. Occasionally there came the sound of mirth
from the servants' hall, but nothing more. Fully deter-
mined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Jack returned
to the garden again. Once more his eye was glued to
the slit in the blind. He could make nobody out in the
room. There was little fear of his being detected, because
a belt of shrubs hid the window from the road.
Without the slightest warning a figure appeared in the
19


20
The Yellow Face
room. It was impossible to see where she came from,
but of necessity she must have entered by the door. Jack
was a little uncertain on that head, for his glance was not
directed towards the door for the moment.
He saw the figure of a woman, young and exceedingly
well dressed. She was wearing an evening gown of white
satin that showed up the creamy pallor of her skin, for her
neck and shoulders were bare. The neck was rather thin,
Jack noted, and the shoulders more inclined to muscle
than beauty. For a young girl it struck Jack that the
upper part of her body looked old. But the face was
dark and wholesome, and against the deep eyes and
swarthy complexion the girl's hair was dazzling. It was
beautiful, rippling hair, changing color as the light flashed
upon it.
"Well, this is a bit of an adventure," the watcher told
himself. “But where's the person in the room who let
the young lady in? Somebody must have let her in,
because the door was locked and the key on the inside.
I saw it there, so I can swear to that fact. But who is
she?"
There were many answers to the problem, for Spencer
Anstruther was a man who had countless strange visitors.
His vast knowledge of crime and the ramifications of
human depravity brought him in contact with large
numbers of people. Men and women in distress often
came to him, and they came in increasing numbers since
Anstruther had got the better of a gang of scoundrels in
a recent famous blackmailing case. Sometimes these
people came on their own initiative, sometimes they were
sent by the police. But Anstruther never said anything
about them. He looked upon himself as a confidential
agent. Claire could have told of many curious visitors at
all hours, though Anstruther never so much as alluded to
them afterwards.
But this girl did not look in the least like anybody in
trouble. Her dark features were almost expressionless ;
there was no display of violent emotions there. Her gaze
slowly wandered round the room as if looking for some-


The Mystery of the Strings
21
thing; she had much the aspect of a pupil whose atten-
tion is called to a blackboard by a master. As Jack
watched, it seemed to him that he had seen this girl be-
fore. He could not recollect anybody in the least like
her; that contrast of dark skin and fair hair was striking
enough to impress itself upon the most careless mind, and
yet Jack could not give the face a name. He could not
permit himself to believe that he had made a mistake.
He knew perfectly well that the expressionless features
were quite familiar to him.
The girl stood for some little time, as if waiting for her
lesson. Jack's eyes were glued so closely upon her that
he did not notice the coming of another person-a man
this time. He was a young man, with sleek, well-brushed
brown hair, and dark, well-groomed moustache turned up
after the fashion affected by the German Emperor. The
man was perfectly well appointed, his evening dress and
white waistcoat were faultless. His face was strong, but
it did not convey anything intellectual. There were scores
of such men to be seen any day during the London season,
all groomed the same, all apparently finished in the same
machine.
The man bowed and smiled to the lady, and she bowed
and smiled in return. It was rather a graceful bow; it
seemed to Jack that she looked at her companion to see
if it were quite correct. Then the two proceeded to talk
in dumb show, partly by signs and partly by fingers. The
mystery was getting deeper—one of these two was a deaf
mute, perhaps both of them. Was this one of Anstruther's
cases, or did it possess a far deeper significance ?
The solution was beyond Jack Masefield. He might
have been on the track of a mystery, and on the other
hand he might merely be doing a little vulgar eaves-
dropping. If it was the latter, and Anstruther found him
out, he need not hope to visit Claire at home any more.
Anstruther was most particular about these things, as Jack
knew ; but he set his teeth together and decided to take
the risk. He felt pretty sure that there was something
here that touched the household deeply.


The Mystery of the Strings
23
woman's toilette in particular had evidently been just
donned, as if fresh from the hands of her maid. And she
had put the clock back half-an-hour.
"They are going somewhere in half-an-hour," Jack de-
cided. “Hang me if I don't follow them. By the right
time it is half-past ten. Anstruther said he should not
come up if he failed to get his business finished before
eleven, at which time he will expect me to go. I'll go up
to the drawing-room and talk to Claire for a little time
just to avert suspicion.".
He crept back into the house without being seen, he
finished his claret, and dropped the stump of his cigarette
on to his dessert plate. As he made his way up the stairs
the music began again. That music was not the least
maddening part of the mystery.
“What a time you have been,” Claire said as she
tossed her book aside. “All by yourself down there !
Really, Jack, you modern young men are so cold blooded
that "
" I'm not so far as you are concerned, dearest,” Jack
said as he kissed the girl. “I had something to do; I
was working out a case that puzzled me."
"A case in some way connected with the law, I sup-
pose?” Claire asked.
“Well, yes," Jack replied. He quite believed that the
case was connected with the law. “I begin to see my
way to its solution. I suppose there is not the slightest
chance of your guardian coming up to-night?”
Claire replied that it did not look like it. Evidently the
solution of the music problem was not an easy one, for the
violin was going again as if it had only just begun.
" It makes me feel creepy," Claire exclaimed. “Fancy
the idea of tracking a criminal by means of divine melody
like that! Jack, don't you notice something strange
about it?”
“I should say that I do,” Jack said. “Why, the whole
thing-really, I beg your pardon, darling. I-I was
thinking about something else. It was the case I alluded
to just now.”


The Mystery of the Strings
25
slightest intention of telling her what he had discovered
that night.
"Let us be less personal," he said. “What was the
strange thing that you noticed about your guardian's
playing?"
• That it is so much better than usual," Claire said.
“ There seemed more passion and feeling in the music.
My guardian is a brilliant violin player, but I have not
hitherto noticed much feeling in his style. Now, listen to
the thing that he is playing at present.”
“Chopin's Fantasie in F,” Jack muttered. “I know
it very well indeed. It is a favorite of mine."
There was certainly plenty of expression and feeling in
the music. Jack was bound to admit that. The fantasie
came to an end with a crash of two chords, and Claire
clapped her hands.
« Beautiful !" she cried. “I must really compliment
my guardian on the improvement in his style. You are
not going already, Jack? It's not quite eleven yet.”
“I'm very sorry, dear, but I have that case to look into
to-night," Jack said, with perfect truth. He saw that the
hands of the big clock on the mantelpiece were creeping
on to the hour. “ Anstruther won't come up to-night; he
said he should be here by eleven if he were. And he gave
me a hint not to stay later. I shall see you at the Warings'
to-morrow night. Good-night, darling."
Claire put up her red lips to be kissed. She would have
seen Jack to the door, but he pointed out that the night
was chilly and Claire's dress thin. Neither would he have
the butler summoned. His coat and hat were in the hall,
and he would get them himself. A moment or two later
and he was standing in the garden behind the strip of
shrubs. He was quite free to act now; he had nobody in
the way. As he stood there, a distant church clock
boomed the hour of eleven.
“Now we shall see what we shall see," Jack muttered.
“ I'm going to find whether there is a mystery of the
house or whether these people are merely Anstruther's
clients. Oh!".


26
The Yellow Face
As he spoke the dark curtain over the study window
was pulled back, and the figure of the young man in the
evening dress was clean cut against the light. Then a
black arm pulled for the catch of the window, and the
young man, pushing the blind aside, came out. He was
wearing an overcoat now, and a tall hat. He seemed to
be waiting for somebody.
Then the figure of the dark-faced, fair-haired girl came
out. She was cloaked from head to foot in a blue wrap
trimmed with feathers; her fair hair was not covered. No
word was spoken, but Jack could see that they were con-
versing still by signs.
The watcher wondered if he had time to get inside the
room. But that little idea was dismissed at the outset, for
the young man pushed the window to carefully and the
latch clicked. It was quite evident that the long sash
closed with a spring lock, which was a most unusual thing
for French windows to do. As the strange pair went down
the side path Jack stepped into the open. He wanted to
assure himself as to the window being fastened. He pulled
at it hard, but it did not yield. At the same moment
from the window of the room came a strange, brilliant
crash of music. Yet that room was absolutely empty, as
Jack would have been prepared to swear in any court of
England.
“I'll wake up either from a dream or in a lunatic asylum
presently,” he muttered. “And now for those other peo-
ple. Good thing they had no idea of being followed."
Jack was in the road now, and taking his way through
the quiet nest of squares between Bloomsbury and Regent's
Park. He could see his quarry a hundred yards or so
before him ; there was nobody else, and there was not the
slightest chance of those in front being lost. A horse's
hoof clicked on the wood pavement as a well-appointed -
hansom passed the tracker. Then he saw the hansom pull
up by the curb and the deaf mutes in front jump in, as if
the whole thing had been arranged, and drive off.
The thing was so sudden and unexpected that Jack was
nonplused for a moment. There was no chance of follow-


The Mystery of the Strings
ing these people, for there probably was not another han-
som within half-a-mile of the spot. Jack stood hesitating
in the silence of the road; he could hear the steady flick-
flack of the horse's hoofs as the rubber-tired hansom
hurried on, and then suddenly the horse's hoofs stopped.
They had not died out in the distance; they had merely
stopped.
Jack hurried forward; he had not given up all hope yet.
He might overtake the hansom and by good luck meet an
empty one going towards the Strand. As he turned a
corner, he saw to his surprise the figure of the young man
in evening dress come silently towards him on the other
side of the road. Then the stranger crossed the road and
turned down the far side of the square as if he were going
to complete the circuit and join his cab again. As the
man vanished Jack heard a thudding sound, followed by a
sound like the tearing of stiff paper, like the rattle of peas
on a drum, a queer stifled cry, and then silence. On the
impulse of the moment, Jack turned and followed.
At the angle stood a row of houses, some of them being
repaired. Jack heard somebody speak to somebody else a
little way down the road. He looked across at the oppo-
site houses to see that they were in scaffolding and that
they were plastered with bills. A little way above the
ground in front of the centre house being repaired was one
of the repulsive, clever Nostalgo posters with the yellow
face looking out.
But there was something else lying there at full length
on the pavement, the body of a man with his face up to
the stars. With a little cry Jack crossed the road. Almost
instantly a policeman stood by his side.
“Drunk,” he said. "A gentleman who's just gone
down the road told me a man was lying drunk on the
pavement. My word, sir, but he's got the complaint
pretty bad.”
“He has," Jack said, with a catch in his voice. "The
man isn't drunk; he's dead. He's been murdered. Shot
through the head and breast. Show your lantern here,
officer."


28
The Yellow Face
The officer flashed the strong, searching rays on the
face of the dead man. As he did so he gave a cry, and
pointed to the hoarding behind him with a finger that
shook a little.
“Dead, sir, and murdered, beyond doubt," he said.
“ But that's not the strangest part of it. Look at his face
and the expression of his eyes; look at the yellow face
and "
“Good heaven!” Jack cried. “The yellow face, the
face of the diabolical poster behind you. As I am a living
man, we have found Nostalgo in the flesh."
The dead man grinned up, the poster grinned down.
And the face of the dead and the face in the print were
exactly the same !


CHAPTER IV
THE SPEAKING LIKENESS
MASEFIELD looked at the figure on the pavement in a
dazed kind of way. Beyond all question there lay the em-
bodiment of the famous Nostalgo poster. London had
been discussing the mystery of the poster for weeks
already. The amazing hideous cleverness of it had struck
the popular imagination, the artistic side of it had ap-
pealed to those of culture. Nobody had the least idea
what it was intended to convey. Every daily paper prom-
ising a correct solution on a certain day would have added
tremendously to its circulation.
Then there had been those who had declared that the
poster was a portrait; they had held that no artist could
imagine a face quite like that. And here was dread con-
firmation of the theory. Absolutely the poster and the
dead man were identical. The same long, thin nose, the
same starting eyes, the same suggestion of diabolical cun-
ning in the smile.
In the poster Nostalgo wore a turn-down collar and a
loosely-knotted red tie. It was the same with the dead
man on the pavement. As to the rest, his dress was con-
ventional enough-a frock coat and gray trousers, a tall
silk hat which had rolled into the road.
“Don't you think that you had better search his
pockets?" Jack suggested.
The constable replied that it was not a bad idea. But
a close examination produced no definite result. There
were no papers on the body, nothing beyond a handful of
money-gold and silver and coppers all mixed up together
in the trousers pocket. There was not even a watch.
“This game's beyond me," the officer muttered, as he
blew his whistle. “We must get this poor chap conveyed
to the police station. Foreigner, ain't he?"
29


The Speaking Likeness 31
that body," Jack said. “ If you like, I will go back and
bring Mr. Spencer Anstruther here."
Here was a chance to get at the other business, the
mystery of the strange music. It was a legitimate errand
enough, but the policeman shook his head. He did not
want to take anything so important upon his own shoulders,
his inspector being “ down on that kind of thing." Two
constables with the ambulance came at length. They asked
no questions, but hoisted the body up and turned immedi-
ately in the direction of Shannon Street police station.
"I think you had better come along, sir," the first po-
liceman suggested to Jack. “It's just possible that the
inspector may want to ask you a few questions."
Masefield followed. He smiled just a little as he noted the
speaker's tone. If not exactly in custody, he was at least
expected to give a good account of himself. To his great
relief he found the inspector not in the least disposed to as-
sume the official manner; on the contrary, he seemed
rather a timid man, though his eyes were steady enough.
“I have told you everything, sir," Jack said at length.
“I only wish it might have been more. If there is any
further way in which I can be of assistance to you - "
“ You are very good, sir," the inspector said. “What
we have to do now is to push the matter forward before the
scent gets cold. It is very imperative that we discover
who this man is. The first person to apply to is the firm
of advertising contractors who posted those bills. Did
anybody happen to notice the firm whose hoarding the
deceased man was found against ?"
“ As a matter of fact, I did," Jack said, as the officer
shook his head. “Not that that is a sure find for you,
Mr. Inspector, seeing that those bills appeared on the
hoardings of all the bill-posting firms in London. Still,
they may have emanated in the first place from one firm,
and perhaps that firm was Freshcombe & Co."
"That being the name on the top of the hoarding we
are speaking of?" the inspector asked. “You have a
keen eye for detail, sir; it was very smart of you to notice
that."


32
The Yellow Face
“Not at all; it was almost an accident. The mere fact
of finding the prototype of the famous Nostalgo poster was
sufficiently startling to brace all one's faculties. In glanc-
ing at the hoarding I saw the name of Freshcombe & Co.
on the top. The name was impressed upon my memory by
the fact that quite recently I appeared for Freshcombe &
Co. in an action they brought against a rival firm for dam-
ages. That is why I have the name so exact.”.
The inspector smiled with the air of a man who is well
pleased with himself. In that case Mr. Masefield prac-
tically knew the head of Freshcombe & Co., and where he
lived. In that event the inspector proposed to go direct
to the gentleman in question and ask for a few partic-
ulars.
“There I can help you again," Jack said. “I had
several interviews with Mr. Freshcombe through his so-
licitor, and one of them took place in Mr. Freshcombe's
own house in Regent's Park Crescent."
The inspector waited to hear no more. One of his men
would call a cab, and perhaps Mr. Masefield would be
good enough to go as far as Regent's Park Crescent and
smooth the way. It was getting late now, but Jack had
no objection. He was keenly interested in this mystery,
and he must get to the bottom of it if he could. He had
a few questions to ask as the cab rolled away, but none of
them struck the inspector as being to the point. But Jack
knew better.
Fortunately Mr. Freshcombe had not gone to bed,
though the house was in darkness. The stout little pros-
perous-looking man of business started as he caught sight
of the inspector's uniform. Something in connection with
burglary rose uppermost in his mind as he asked his
visitors' business.
“I hope there is nothing wrong," he stammered. “Ah,
how do you do, Mr. Masefield ? Will you gentlemen be
so good as to step inside. There is a fire in the dining-
room. Anything in the way of a cigar, or —
But the inspector came to business at once. It was
plain that his story interested the listener, for he followed


The Speaking Likeness 33
with eyes of rounded astonishment. He punctuated the
story with surprised grunts.
"Bless my soul !" he explained. “Whoever would
have thought it? I never expected that there was any-
body like that famous poster. I had two thousand of
them through my hands in the way of business, and they
struck me as clever, very clever indeed. Personally, I
regarded them as theatrical bills."
" Then you can't tell us anything about them ?" the
inspector asked, with an air of chagrin.
“ Nothing whatever,” Freshcombe replied promptly.
“ As I said before, the posters came to us in the ordinary
way of business. There was an air of secrecy about the
whole thing."
“Which did not attract your attention? Did not appeal
to your suspicions, I mean?”
« Not a bit of it. The advertiser wanted to create an
air of mystery and sensation. How well that has been
managed I leave you to guess. Being, moreover, exceed-
ingly shrewd, the advertiser did not mean his name to leak
out. I received a note one day asking my terms for dis-
playing a thousand of those posters on all the hoardings in
London, and my people sent in a quotation."
“That letter came from another business house, I pre-
sume, sir?" the inspector asked.
“ No, it didn't. It was from a certain Mr. John Smith,
and was written from the Hôtel Royale, and on the official
paper of the hotel. Three days later the posters arrived
per a firm of carriers, and the same afternoon a check
drawn by John Smith on the City and Provincial Bank.
We cashed the check and posted the bills. I may say that,
in the usual course of business, I should not have known
this; but I was a little struck by the posters and their mys-
tery, so I made inquiries. I assure you that I have not
time to go into these minor details as a rule.”
“I am rather disappointed," the inspector said. “I
hardly expected this. The mystery of the posters –
“Was part of the cleverness of the scheme," Fresh-
combe interrupted. “As a rule, these things leak out and


34
The Yellow Face
spoil the game. Why, half-a-dozen newspaper men have
been asking questions in my office."
“ Then you don't even know who printed the posters ?”
Jack asked. “Have you any more left ?".
“I fancy the posters were French,” Freshcombe said.
“ They had evidently been repacked before they came to
me. No, we have none left; they were all posted last
week. I haven't even one as a specimen.”
Mr. Freshcombe would have pushed his hospitality, but
the others declined. The inspector was not going to give
up the chase like this. Could Mr. Freshcombe find a
London Directory, or in any way help him to ascertain the
name and address of the manager of the City branch of the
City and Provincial Bank ? Mr. Freshcombe could supply
both details. The bank manager in question was a large
shareholder in the firm and enjoyed an important position.
As to his residence, it was in Piccadilly, over the bank's
branch there. Mr. Carrington was a man of fashion, so
that, if he were at home, it was unlikely that he had gone
to bed. A monient later and the cab was proceeding
towards Piccadilly.
Mr. Carrington was not only at home, but he was enter-
taining friends. There were lights in all the windows of
the handsome suite of rooms over the bank, and a chatter
of voices assailed the ears of the callers as soon as the ma-
hogany door was opened. Mr. Carrington was giving an
evening party, the footman explained, and he did not like
to be disturbed. But the sight of the inspector's uniform
was not without its effect, and the intruders were ushered
into a little room at the top of the stairs. The door was
not quite closed, so that the strangers could see down a
handsome corridor into a fine drawing-room beyond.
Jack could recognize some of the guests, whereby he knew
that Mr. Carrington kept very good company.
“I feel like an intruder," Jack said, as he stood looking
out of the room. In his eyening dress he might have
passed for a guest himself. “If Mr. Carrington is in a
position — "
Jack paused suddenly. He was face to face with the


The Speaking Likeness
35
third great surprise to-night. For there in the corridor,
and coming towards him now, was the fair-haired, dark-
skinned girl whom he had seen with the young man in
Spencer Anstruther's study. There was no mistake here,
no illusion. The girl walked along with her head down,
making a sign from time to time to the man by her side.
He was a perfect stranger to Jack, who dismissed him from
the situation altogether as a mere vacuous man about town.
If the woman was here, the youth with the imperial mous-
tache was not far off, Jack thought.
“I think that you were going to say something, sir," the
inspector ventured.
But Jack had quite recovered himself by this time. He
made some commonplace remark, and then Mr. Carring-
ton came into the room. He was polite, but not at all
anxious for his visitors to remain. Would they be so good
as to get to the point.
The inspector told his story with considerable brevity.
Mr. Carrington was pleased to be interested. It was a
strange and startling romance as it stood, but the bank man-
ager did not see his way to afford any solution of this mystery.
"I haven't quite finished, sir," the inspector said
quietly. “ That bill-posting was paid for by a check
drawn on your City branch, of which you are manager, by
one John Smith. Now, this John Smith ".
" Which John Smith ?” Mr. Carrington asked, with a
smile. “My good sir, do you know that we have some
two thousand five hundred accounts at our City branch ?
Probably the name of John Smith is the commonest in the
world. Without making any very definite statement, I
should say that we have over two hundred accounts in the
name of Smith, and probably a third of them John Smith.
I can quite understand your anxiety to get on the track of
the right man without delay, but that could not possibly
be done to-night. I could not even get at the ledgers
without two of the cashiers being present. But I will
make it a point to be at the bank at ten o'clock to-morrow
morning and meet you there. It is impossible to do any
more to-night."


36
The Yellow Face
The inspector nodded his head somewhat sadly. He
quite saw the force of what Mr. Carrington was saying.
He could do no more than make an appointment for the
following day. He wished Carrington good-night and
turned to go, followed by Masefield. In the corridor
somebody called Jack by name. He turned to see a col-
league of the junior Bar standing before him.
“ Hullo !” the latter said, “where did you turn up
from? I had an idea that you were a friend of Carring-
ton's. Get your coat off and join us in a game of bridge."
The situation was just a little embarrassing, but Carring-
ton came to the rescue. Masefield was dressed for the
part, so to speak, and would he not remain ? There would
be dancing presently, and -
But Jack decided promptly. He whispered the inspec-
tor to precede him and wait for him in the cab. Carring-
ton passed on as Jack stood just a moment chatting with
his old friend and school-fellow.
“I came here to-night on rather important business," he
said. “There is no occasion to go into that now. But I
want you to do something for me, my dear fellow. In
hunting up one mystery I feel pretty sure that I have come
on the track of another. There is a deaf and dumb girl
here—there she is, with that Johnny chap in the resplen-
dent white waistcoat. I want you to find out who she is
and where she comes from."
" That's all right," Richard Rigby responded. “Nice-
looking girl, with fair hair and dark eyes. Sort of striking
theatrical get-up, don't you think?"
“Well, now you mention it, perhaps it is rather in that
way. But that isn't all, Dick; unless I am greatly mis-
taken, the girl came here with a fair chap whose mous-
tache is turned up after the fashion of the German Emperor.
Find out all about him, too, and I'll look you up at your
chambers the first thing in the morning. I must not keep
my friend waiting. Good-night.”.
Jack passed along the corridor in the direction of the
staircase. There were many palms and ferns there, with
screens behind which people could sit and not be seen


The Speaking Likeness
37
except by their partners. Jack paused with his foot on
the thick pile of the carpet, for just in front of him was
the girl with the southern face and fair hair. Her head
was still bent low, her fingers were working. What her
companion was like Jack could not quite make out, for his
back was turned. The girl looked up at him with a flash
of anger in her eyes, her lips moved, and sound certainly
came from them. Jack could just catch the words.
"Don't drive me too far," she said. “Take care and
not drive me too far, because — "
The girl suddenly lapsed into silence again and her
fingers began to work. The couple passed behind a screen
of palms and ferns, and Jack could see them no more.
« Well, this has been a night and a half," he said.
“Where is it going to end? I wonder if my friend the
inspector will be disposed to accept my suggestion ?".
The inspector gave Jack's suggestion the most careful
attention. He had not thought of it before.
“We'll go back to the scene of the murder," Jack said.
“ There is a strong electric light in front of the hoarding,
and the Nostalgo poster is only a few feet from the ground.
Moreover, it has only recently been put up, and it is quite
clean and fair. Depend upon it, there is some trade-mark
upon the bill, even if it is only a cipher. Of course, you
see the importance of finding out who posted that bill ?".
"Of course, sir. How do you propose to get at the
facts ?”
“By examining the bill with the aid of a strong magni-
fying glass. I have no doubt that, being a detective, you
have such a thing in your pocket at the present moment?
Good. Then, all you have to do is to order the cab to
drive to the corner of Panton Street and stop there.".
The cab arrived at length and the occupants dis-
mounted. They did not take the cab quite as far as the
scene of the murder for obvious reasons, but walked on
there alone. It was quite still now, and nobody was about
save a passing policeman, who had orders to give notice if
anybody was coming. It was just as well that the curi-
osity of passers-by should not be aroused.


38
The Yellow Face
« Now for it," Jack said, breathing a little faster in
his excitement. “ Perhaps we had better have the as-
sistance of your lantern as well. I thought that the poster
was there. It was there. I'll swear that that is the very
spot, just where that picture of the pretty girl taking the
pills is. Good heavens, man, the poster has gone! It has
been covered up since we were here before by that mus-
tard advertisement. At the hour after midnight the thing
has been done. But the right thing must be underneath.
See! The poster is wet!”
Jack advanced to tear the poster down, but the in-
spector pulled him roughly aside.
"Don't touch it,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever you
do, don't touch it. Wait !"


CHAPTER V
A VANISHED CLUE
JACK MASEFIELD paused for Inspector Bates to say more.
Possibly the officer was possessed of some brilliant idea,
but after the first glance at his face it was easy to see that
he was as nonplused as Jack himself. It was only the
professional caution that spoke ; there was no illumination
at the back of the policeman's brain.
“I had hoped that perhaps you had discerned some-
thing," Masefield said.
“Not quite that, sir,” Bates admitted. “So far I am
as much in the dark as you are yourself, but my experience
is that nothing is to be gained by haste. What I mean is
that a thoughtless movement often destroys a clue of the
utmost value. I should like to stand here for a moment
and consider my position."
Jack drily remarked that there could be no objection to
the course proposed by Inspector Bates. It was very late
now; there was nothing to be seen, so that the train of
thought of the inspector was not likely to be interrupted.
He stood facing the great boarded hoarding with its wealth
of gaudy pictorial advertisements, but his face did not
lighten, and the moody frown was still on his brow.
"Blessed if I can make anything of it,” he said in vexed
tones. “Here's a man found dead under the most amaz-
ing circumstances. There seems to be no motive for the
crime; nothing has been removed from the body so far
as we know; the man evidently died where he fell. That
he was killed I dare say the medical examination will
show."
“So far the crime is commonplace and vulgar enough,"
Jack Masefield suggested. “Scores of these things hap-
pen in London every year. Some are found out, but some


40
The Yellow Face
remain mysteries to the end of time ; but this particular
crime seems to be peculiarly terrible. First of all, Lon-
don for some time has been doubly attentive to the yellow-
faced posters. No greater advertising circular has ever
appealed to the public. Nostalgo is a personality about
as great as some of our leading actors. Still, nobody has
really regarded Nostalgo as a living force, and I find him
dead on the pavement here right in front of one of his
own posters. Is that coincidence or an amazing hap-
pening ?"
“Both, I should say, sir," Bates replied. “An amaz-
ing happening in any case. But to find the man dead in
front of one of his own posters may be no more than a
coincidence. You see, there are so many Nostalgo pos-
ters about."
But Jack was loth to give up his point.
“I admit that,” he said ; “but the particular poster we
find up is a fresh one. It was more or less shot-marked,
as I pointed out to you; it was marked much as the body
of the dead man was marked. If you remember, I sug-
gested examining the poster by means of a magnifying
glass, in the hope of finding some kind of printer's trade-
mark, and we come back here for that purpose. We find
the poster pasted over with a commonplace advertisement
of somebody's mustard. Surely that is not coincidence.
For some reason or other the poster was covered by de-
sign. It is not the habit of the bill-poster to go about the
work at midnight.”
"Ah, there you are not altogether correct, sir," Bates
exclaimed. He felt that he was on pretty safe ground
now. " The working bill-poster is not tied to time. He
has a certain amount of work to do, and he does it pretty
well when he pleases. Sometimes they have to work very
late. For instance, a stock piece put up at a theatre may
prove a draw, and the management desire to keep it going
for a time. Then there is work late at night for some
firm of the paste-pot."
“Quite so, inspector; but does that apply to the harm-
less, necessary mustard advertisement ?"


A Vanished Clue
41
“ Not directly, perhaps. But suppose there had been
a sudden rush of new and urgent work, the routine would
have fallen behind. Please understand that the bill-poster
does not career round in a casual way, sticking up a poster
just where it suits his fancy. All these hoardings are
rented, and big advertisers contract to have so many sheets
displayed every week ; in fact, it is a most desultory busi-
ness. Depend upon it, the bill-poster who so lately posted
up that alluring mustard tin had nothing to do with the
business.”
It was all so logical and conclusive that Jack was com-
pelled to drop further argument. At the same time, it
seemed rather foolish to stand there doing nothing.
“Look here," he said, struck by a sudden idea ; " why
not pull that mustard poster down, and get at the real
source of the truth. The paper is still wet, and I dare say
we might find a ladder behind the hoarding. Let us pull it
down, and take the whole thing to the police-station and
examine it at our leisure.”
There was no objection to this, at Bates was bound to
admit. It was a very easy matter to find a way behind
the hoarding and secure the firmest of many ladders. A
short one was sufficient for the purpose, and very soon the
great sheet that contained the mustard advertisement was
pulled off the wooden hoarding and lay in a heap on the
pavement. In the place of it, fresh and strong, was the
yellow face of Nostalgo. Jack took the inspector's lamp
and regarded the poster carefully by the magnifying glass.
But there was no imprint to be seen, nothing to lead to the
identity of the firm who printed the placard.
“I can make nothing whatever of it,” Masefield was
fain to admit at last. « There are the shot holes plainly
marked, as if somebody had used an air-gun or a pea-
rifle. Beyond that I can see absolutely nothing of the
slightest significance. The best thing for us to do is to
see the contractor who has the job in hand in the morning,
and get him to saw the poster out of the wooden hoarding
for you. The strong light of day may make a difference;
but I am not as yet absolutely satisfied that that mustard


42
The Yellow Face
poster was placed exactly on the top of the yellow face
quite by accident."
Bates did not contest the point. He was getting tired
and sleepy, and it was very late. “Very well," he said,
“ we will return to the police station in Shannon Street and
have another look at the dead man. It is just possible we
may find something there. At the same time, it may be
just as well to be on the safe side. I'll get one of my
men to come here and keep an eye on the hoarding to-
night. It is on the cards that he may see something sus-
picious. I'll send a plain clothes man here to watch."
As Bates blew softly on his whistle a constable turned
up and saluted. He was to stay where he was until relief
came, Bates explained. Then he and Jack Masefield went
off in the direction of Shannon Street station. The place
was perfectly quiet; nobody had been brought in lately;
there was no sign of the tragedy here. In a rack near the
back, lighted by a skylight some six feet from the ground,
lay the murdered body of the man with the yellow face.
The malignant look had gone from his face; he seemed
calm and placid. As Tack bent over him it seemed to him
that there was a movement of the heart. He pointed
this out to the inspector, who shook his head.
“ People not accustomed to these things often make the
same mistake," he said. “I have heard witnesses swear
that the body of this or that man was not bereft of life,
and in this belief they have been quite certain. Then a
doctor comes along and proves beyond a doubt that death
has taken place perhaps five or six hours before. Mus-
cular action is what probably deceives people. That poor
fellow is dead enough."
Masefield did not argue the matter. It was a sickening
business, and he felt that he would gladly see the end of
it. Not so Bates, who was inured to this kind of thing.
Very rapidly and skilfully he went over the body in search
of anything that might be likely to lead to the identifica-
tion of the deceased. But the pockets were doubtless
empty ; there was no watch or chain, or purse, no marking
on the linen.


A Vanished Clue
43
“ Not even a laundry mark?" Jack suggested. “If my
reasoning is correct, a laundry mark has frequently proved
of the greatest assistance."
“No mark whatever," said Bates. “The shirt, for in-
stance, is of ordinary make, the class of thing that one
buys ready-made at a shop, and which has usually its
maker's mark on. There has been a mark of some kind
on the neck band, but it looks as if it had been blocked
out with chemicals. See how much whiter and thinner
the neck band is. We are simply wasting our time
here."
Jack said nothing; he could only shake his head sadly.
The more the mystery came to be probed the more mad-
dening did it become. A close investigation of the cloth-
ing presented as little result; there was nothing even about
the boots to prove where they had been made. If the man
was a criminal, and his general air suggested that, he had
taken the most amazing precaution to prevent identification
in case of accidents. Jack looked at the clear, dark fea-
tures. This was no man to take anybody into his confi-
dence. Success or failure, or crime, must all be under-
taken alike alone and unaided. This face would never
have led anybody to rejoice with him in good fortune, or
sympathize with him in failure.
"Well, I think I had better be getting back to my
rooms," Masefield said. “I have given you my name and
address. I'll come round to-morrow and see if you have
made anything out of the poster in the daylight. One
thing is pretty certain there should be no difficulty, if a
determined effort is made, to discover the people who
printed the picture of the yellow face. There are not
many firms in this country capable of such work."
“There is the Continent," Bates suggested. "I'm
afraid that it will be very much like looking for a needle
in a hayrick. Still "
What deep philosophical remark Bates was going to
make Masefield was not destined to hear, for at the same
moment there was the sound of a sudden disturbance in
the office beyond. The hoarse voice of a sergeant was


44
The Yellow Face
heard demanding to know what this little game meant,
there was a groan, and the collapse of a heavy body on the
floor. Bates strode into the office.
" What is all this row about ?” he demanded.
“ It's Gregory, sir," the sergeant replied. “Went off
half-an-hour ago on some special work for you, or so he
said, and here's he back as drunk as a lord; regularly col-
lapsed on the floor, he did. It's not the first time,
either."
A sudden suspicion burst upon Masefield. He knelt by
the side of the plain clothes man and felt his heart. There
was a peculiar red nark round the man's neck as if some-
thing had been pulled very tightly round it.
"The man is no more drunk than I am," Jack said.
" He has been attacked, and his breath is wholly free from
any suspicion of drink. Look at that mark round his
neck.”
Very slowly the prostrate man struggled to a sitting posi-
tion. When the fact had once been ascertained that there
was no suggestion of intoxication, brandy was administered
to him. He had a strange story to tell. He was carrying
out instructions when suddenly somebody came behind
him and placed a rope round his neck. Before he could
recover himself he was partially strangled; he lost con-
sciousness and lay on the pavement. When he came to
himself again he was quite alone. He had managed to
struggle back to the station, and once there had collapsed
on the floor. Robbery was not the motive, for he had lost
nothing.
“It's all part of the same mystery," Jack decided.
“Something was going on behind that hoarding, and the
criminals did not want the policeman to see. I shall walk
back to my rooms that way. No, you had better not come
along, inspector, in case you are spotted. I shall just walk
very coolly by and keep my eye on that hoarding. Good-
night!”
There was nothing more to be done, so Masefield was
allowed to depart. He had ample food for thought as he
walked along the deserted streets. He came at length to


A Vanished Clue
45
the great hoarding where the poster had stood. He
stopped just for a moment, almost too amazed to move;
then he forced himself to go forward again.
For the striking Nostalgo poster was gone. It had been
sawn neatly out of the boards of the hoarding, leaving a
blank square eye in its place!


CHAPTER VI
VANISHED!
It was not to be supposed that this had happened with-
out attracting the Argus eye of the Press. The night-
birds of journalism had been hovering about, seeking their
prey of sensational copy. They haunted the police station
with a hope that something might turn up—the hope that
every reporter has that sooner or later he may happen on
a good thing that has in it the making of some columns
of red-hot descriptive matter.
One of them, hungry and lynx-eyed, had seen the body
of Nostalgo carried to Shannon Street station. There
might have been a paragraph then; there might have been
a column. At any rate, the chance was too good to be
lost. The reporter was on the best of terms with the police
for a square mile or so; indeed, his living more or less
depended on the good fellowship of the local authorities.
The sergeant had first of all set the ball rolling; the re-
porter had seen the body; he had no difficulty in recog-
nizing the striking likeness between the dead man and the
poster. Younger men would have rushed off at once and
made a long paragraph of this, manifolded it, and sent it
broadcast along Fleet Street.
But not so the old and cunning hand at the game; his
instinct told him that there was more to come. There was
more to come, probably in the shape of the shaken Greg-
ory, who presently told the reporter his part of the story.
This was a case when a cab was justified. Half-an-hour
later the reporter was closeted with the chief sub-editor of
the Daily Planet, a halfpenny morning paper dealing
largely in sensations. The sub-editor's eye gleamed as he
listened to the reporter's story. This was something after
his own heart.
46


Vanished!
47
“Write two columns of it,” he said. “You can use
Daly's room. Serve it up as hot as you can with plenty
of scare heads. We'll give it the first place on page five.
You had better have a stenographer, as time is pressing."
Therefore it came about that the half million or so of
readers of the Planet had the shock at breakfast the fol-
lowing day. With its tally of many dazzling sensations,
the Planet had never been more successful than in this.
The thing was admirably done. The mystery was puz-
zling to a degree. Before ten o'clock the following morn-
ing London was talking of little else. It was discussed in
the train, on the top of the omnibus, in City offices. The
name of Nostalgo was on every lip.
The editor-in-chief and the chief shareholder in the
Planet Company came down to the office very early in the
forenoon, an action quite unusual with him. But his keen
instinct scented a good thing for the Planet here. The
thing was exclusively his own, and he meant to work it to
the last ounce. The little man with the bald head and
gold-rimmed monocle had created a pretty scheme by the
time he had reached his office. Without loss of time he
sent for Mr. Richard Rigby. Rigby came in response to
the summons. He found journalism more remunerative
than the Bar.
" This is the best thing we have ever had," Mr. Van
Jens said in his staccato way. “I'm just going to show
the British public what an American journalist can do with
the thing. It's pretty clear to me that the police have
blundered, as they always do, and that they have got right
off the track of the truth. We're going to solve the mys-
tery, Rigby, and you're the man I have picked out to do
it. In the first place, you are a clever actor, and you have
pluck. Go about it in your own way, and take your own
time. Never mind the expense; spend £1,000 if neces-
sary. Only get to the bottom of the thing, if it's merely
to prove to the police that they can't do without the Press.
By the way, isn't Masefield a friend of yours?".
Rigby admitted that such was the case. He did not
pretend to follow the quick working of his chief's brain ;


48
The Yellow Face
few men were competent to do that. Van Jens was lean-
ing over the Planet in order to read the report of the Nos-
talgo affair.
I saw Masefield last night," Rigby said. He did not
tell Van Jens that Jack had met him at Carrington's, for
that was a matter concerning Masefield alone. “Do you
think he is likely to be of any assistance to me?"
“It is just possible. You see it was Masefield who
actually found the body of the man who we call Nostalgo.
It is possible also that Masefield knows more than our re-
porter got to find out. You had better hint to Masefield
that there is a chance of getting a commission from us to
write a serial for one of our weekly journals-he is in the
way of doing that kind of thing. Anyway, get him to
regard it in a favorable light. If you handle the man
properly, I feel quite sure that he will offer you valuable
information."
Rigby nodded. He did not tell Van Jens that Jack
Masefield was a close friend of his, for that point had
nothing to do with Van Jens, who regarded Rigby as the
typical smart unit of the smart paper, and none too scrupu-
lous where men were concerned. As a matter of fact
Rigby had his code of honor; possibly his chief would not
have considered it. Come what might, Rigby was not
likely to take any advantage of Masefield.
"All right," he said ; " you may rely upon me to do all
that I can. By the way, if I am to take this case in hand,
I must not be tied as to time. I mean, that somebody
else must be drafted out to do my regular work and-and
to say nothing if I don't show up here regularly. I think
that only fair."
“Only fair, it is," Van Jens replied. “I'll see to all
that. And I'll leave instructions with the counting house
that you are to draw on me to the extent of £1,000 if
necessary. And now you had better go off to Masefield
without delay."
It was not yet eleven o'clock, and Rigby felt pretty
certain of finding Masefield at home. He was perfectly
correct in his conclusions, for Jack was busy just putting


Vanished:
49
the finishing touches to a short magazine story. The
morning papers lay in a pile on the table, but as yet he had
not had time to open them. Rigby helped himself to a
cigarette.
" Hope I don't intrude," he said. “If I am in the way,
kick me out at once.”
“ You are never in the way here, Dick," Masefield
smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have just passed the last
page of this story for the Grasshopper. It's always a
pleasure to sit down and write a story when you have a
fair commission for it."
“ You will soon have plenty of them, my boy," Rigby
said cheerfully, “especially now that you've got your
name in the papers. Seen the Planet to-day? You
haven't? Well, you are pretty prominent on page five,
let me tell you. One of our men got hold of that sensa-
tional Nostalgo business, and then made a picture of it.
Just run your eye along the report, and tell me what you
think of it. Pretty hot, isn't it? Now can you tell me
anything?"
“ Anything fresh in regard to the affair you mean?"
"" You've got it first time. As a matter of fact, Van
Jens has placed the thing in my hands, and I'm to get to
the bottom of it if it costs the paper £1,000. Van Jens
suggested that I should come and see you and pump you.
The bait to you is a commission for a big serial in one of
our weeklies. But apart from all that, Jack, I'm quite
sure that you will be ready to help me for old sake's
sake.”
“Of course I will," Masefield said heartily. “Really,
there is very little to tell; your man seems to have got it
down very fine. But I can tell you all about the shot
marks and the missing poster, only you must not publish
that."
“My dear fellow, you don't quite understand my posi-
tion. I'm not sent as a mere scare writer in this business;
I'm more of an amateur detective, with a pocket full of
money. My task is to beat the police at their own game,
and prove the superior intellectual force of the Press.


50
The Yellow Face
Then I shall write the whole story, and the Planet circula-
tion will go up to a million."
“ Then I'll tell you all that there is to know," Jack
replied. “When I have finished my story, I shall have a
few questions to ask you. Get your note-book out."
Rigby had no cause for complaint on the score of Mase-
field's narrative. In the description of the shot marks
and the subsequently missing poster he felt that he had
conquered a fine point of the situation. He took another
cigarette, and Jack did the same.
“Now I'm going to ask you a few questions,” the
latter said, “and I should not be surprised that in replying
to my queries we throw some fresh light on the object of
your search. You will recollect meeting me at Carring-
ton's last night?"
“Of course I do. I took you for a fellow quite above
that kind of thing-playing the amateur detective.".
“Notably, as I was in evening dress. As a matter of
fact I had been dining with Spencer Anstruther, and it
was in leaving his house that I found the body of the man
we had better call Nostalgo. Of course I recognized him
by the likeness to the poster. Subsequently Inspector
Bates and myself discovered the name of the firm who
posted the creation. We went off to see the head of the
firm, and he could tell us very little, except that the placards
came from some John Smith, who had an account with the
City and Provincial Bank. The latter fact accounts for my
being at Carrington's last night."
"Exactly. And you asked me to keep my eye on a
pretty girl, who was deaf, and who had for attendant
cavalier a chap with a moustache like that of the German
Emperor."
"I am coming to that," Masefield went on. “I told
you that I had been dining with Anstruther. Now these
two people left Anstruther's house, for I followed them. I
will tell you a more striking thing about them later on, but
I want to have my side of the affair cleared up first. Tell
me what happened after I left Carrington's with Inspector
Bates."


Vanished!
51
“Well, I kept my eye on these people, as you asked me.
I tried to get some information about the fair one from
Carrington himself, but he didn't seem to like the subject.
He seemed depressed and a little bit uneasy, I thought;
said it was a sad case, sort of relation of his, and that the
man with the moustache was a foreign count or something
of that sort. I wouldn't press the matter, as it would have
been in bad taste, you see. But, all the same, I did keep
an eye on these people, as you asked me, and the end of it
was that I followed them when they left the house. I don't
know what made me do it."
" At any rate I'm glad you acted in that manner," Jack
said. "Did they go back in the direction of Anstruther's
house? Did they take a cab?"
“ Not in the ordinary acceptance of the word,” Rigby
explained. “They walked as far as the top of Regent
Circus, where a private growler was waiting. The cab was
all black, the driver had a black livery. I could not see
his face, as it was tied up with a silk handkerchief as if the
fellow had toothache or something of that kind. The
four-wheeler was evidently waiting for them, for they got
in at once."
"Anybody else inside the cab?" Jack asked.
“By Jove, I was nearly forgetting that !” Rigby
exclaimed. “I was just flush with the cab as it passed
a lamp. There was another figure in the cab, a man, and
as the light shone on his face I was about staggered by his
resemblance to the poster of Nostalgo. I only saw the
face just for an instant, but it is impressed upon my mind
as if the man were standing before me at this very minute.
Singular, was it not ?"
Jack nodded dumbly. This was another new departure
in the strange mystery. For the man seen by Rigby in
the black four-wheeler could not possibly have been the same
Nostalgo that Jack had found, seeing that the latter had
been lying in Shannon Street some hour or two before the
time that Rigby was speaking about.
“You did not follow them further, I suppose ?” Mase-
field asked.


52
The Yellow Face
“ No; I didn't go as far as that. And at the moment
I didn't think anything as to that Nostalgo business No. 1,
so to speak. If I had, you may bet your bottom dollar
that I should not have lost the opportunity. The cab
drifted away without any direction being given; so I went
along, without giving it more consideration, to my club.
Eh, what?"
Inspector Bates had hurried into the room without cere-
mony. His face was pale and agitated.
“Something strange come out at the inquest?" Jack
asked.
“ No, sir," Bates gasped, “ for the simple reason that
there has been no inquest. You can't hold an inquest
without a body. What do I mean? Why, that the body
has vanished from the room, leaving not a hint of a clue
behind !”


CHAPTER VII
NO. 4, MONTROSE PLACE
The inspector stood there with his hand on his heart,
as if he had run far and fast. So far as Jack could see,
Bates was suffering from some strong emotion. He flopped
down in the chair indicated for him, and took Jack's
proffered cigarette with a shaking hand. Although his
feelings were not exactly under the control one would
have expected from one of the leading lights of Scotland
Yard, there was at the same time a certain suggestion of
grim humor playing about the corners of his mouth.
Jack looked across at Rigby and smiled significantly.
“Evidently a new development of the case," Jack said,
glancing once more at his friend. “As a matter of fact,
inspector, I have just been telling Mr. Rigby all about
last night's ghastly business. By the way, you will recol-
lect, of course, that Mr. Rigby is my friend whom we met
at Mr. Carrington's last night. Not to make too long a
story of it, there are sidelights of this business of which
you are not at present aware—but all that is beside the
point. What I want you to tell me is about this disap-
pearance of the body of Nostalgo. Seriously, do you want
my friend and me to believe that the body of a dead man
has disappeared from Shannon Street police station right
under the eyes of the authorities ?”
"Well, that is about the size of it," Bates admitted rue-
fully. “Naturally enough, we look forward to important
developments at the official inquiry. I had a chat late
last night with the doctor, who seemed to be of the opinion
that the dead man had been shot with something quite new
in the way of a weapon.".
What, do you mean a new projectile or a new sort of
small arm?" Masefield asked.
53


54
The Yellow Face
"Well, not exactly that," the inspector replied; "but
something quite new in the way of a missile. There were
marks on the breast of our unfortunate friend which indi-
cated the presence of a shot of some kind that did mortal
damage without leaving traces of anything material be-
hind."
“Oh, that is all very well, so far as it goes ; but what I
want to get at chiefly is the cause of the disappearance of
the body," Rigby put in impatiently. “What is the good
of trying to establish all sorts of new theories when you
have not so much as a dead body of the deceased man be-
fore you? It seems incredible to me that this outrage
could have been committed in a police station. Was no
one about—was the whole place deserted, whereby some
stranger could have coolly stepped in and walked off with
the body of a powerful man?"
“ Well, that is not so difficult as it might seem," Bates
said eagerly. “As a matter of fact, our mortuary is
merely an outside room which at one time had been used
as a kitchen. Mr. Masefield will recollect last night
noticing that the light of the room consisted entirely of a
kind of skylight. The ceiling is exceedingly low, so that
it would be quite possible for a tall man to lift the body
through and carry it away without the least trouble, pro-
vided, of course, that he had sufficient strength. At any
rate, there it is, and we have to make the best of it."
“I hope that you have managed to keep this matter
from the public so far," Masefield said. “ I don't think
anything will be gained by allowing this new sensation to
get into the papers. The best thing we can do is to come
round to Shannon Street with you and see if we can lay
our hands upon anything in the way of a clue. My friend
Mr. Rigby has had a lot of experience in amateur detect-
ive work; I dare say you recollect his success in the mat-
ter of the Mortlake coiners, on behalf of the Planet."
Bates expressed his willingness to fall in with this ar-
rangement. Not that he had any particular confidence in
amateur detectives generally; but he was so bewildered
and disheartened at present that anything was preferable to


No. 4, Montrose Place
55
his own painful thoughts. The police station was reached
at length, and a thorough search of the shabby little apart-
ment at the back of the office made. But no amount of
investigation served to throw any light on this new phase
of the mystery. It was even as Bates had said : with the
darkness of the night, and expecting no developments of
this kind, a bold and unscrupulous character might easily
have entered the room and taken away anything, however
bulky, without much chance of detection.
Nothing daunted by the want of success attending his
efforts, Rigby climbed on to the roof and looked around
him. He was particularly struck by the deserted area at
the back of the police station. It was some distance from
his coign of vantage to the nearest house. No doubt at
one time the open space had consisted of fertile gardens,
but the same space was now given over to arid grass and
a few stunted trees-a scene of desolation indeed. On
the opposite side, some two hundred yards away, the backs
of a terrace of large houses looked blankly on the scene.
Rigby, with a new idea entirely in his mind, inquired the
name of the terrace. Bates smiled with the superior air of
the professional, and replied that it was Montrose Place.
" And what class of people live there?” Rigby asked.
“Well, rather mixed, I should say," Bates replied.
" There was a time, not so many years ago, when Mont-
rose Place was quite fashionable. Mind you, they're ex-
ceedingly good houses, quite good enough for any moneyed
class; but I understand that the landlord is by no means a
liberal man, and, as the houses have fallen out of repair,
they have become void."
Any further information on this head was cut short by
the sudden calling away of the inspector. It seemed to
Masefield that Rigby was by no means disposed to mourn
for the official's company. He stood with his brows bent
frowning at the sombre row of houses in front of him, but,
from the quick working of his hands, Masefield could see
that his versatile friend's brain was busy.
“ I see you have made a discovery," Masefield said
quietly. "Would you mind telling me what it is ?"


56
The Yellow Face
Rigby pointed to the fourth house from the end of the
terrace. Did Masefield notice anything about it peculiar?
he asked. But Masefield did not see anything about the
house at all ominous or suggestive, except that the win-
dows were grimy and dirty, and that the erstwhile fashion-
able silk blinds were hanging in tatters like banners behind
the smirky glass.
“But surely you see something?" asked Rigby impa-
tiently. “ For instance, take the third window on the
left over the ledge, which probably is that of the bath-
room. Don't appear to be looking, and, at the same time,
keep your eye casually on the window."
With a quickening of his pulses, Masefield glanced up
in a vague kind of way in the direction of the window.
He felt instinctively that in some way the deserted house
was involved in the disappearance of Nostalgo. There
was not much time for speculation on this point. Very
slowly and cautiously the blind was raised, and a haggard
face peeped out. It was like a picture from some old
print, this strange weird yellow face behind the grimy
glass. So thick was the murky dust upon the casement
that it was impossible at so short a distance to decide
whether the features were those of a man or a woman.
Anyway, the face, if it were that of a man, was clean-
shaven, the pale head half hidden behind a tangle of thick
black hair. It was only for a moment that this weird
face presented itself to the eager eyes of the spectators
below; an instant later and the whole phantom had
vanished.
“Now, what do you think of that?” Rigby asked
eagerly. “Don't you agree with me that this strange ap-
parition has something to do with the story? Now, sup-
posing you or I had some powerful inducement for getting
hold of the missing body, could we find a better place to
work from than that deserted house?”
• Provided always that it is deserted," Masefield said
guardedly. “Don't let's go quite so fast. Surely your
own experience must have taught you what strange crea-
tures one often sees as caretakers in good houses ?"


No. 4, Montrose Place
57
“So much the better for me," Rigby replied. “ If you
are correct in your suggestion, it will make my task all the
more easy ; for, come what may, I am going to see the
whole inside of that place before I sleep to-night.”
Rigby walked back into the police station with the air
of a man who has said his last word on the matter. It
was no advantage to him, working as he was on behalf of
his own newspaper, to mention his discovery to Bates.
Possibly Masefield's common-sense view of the problem
might have been the correct one, after all, in which case
Bates would have had the laugh of his unprofessional ally.
But Bates had evidently been called out on other business,
so that there was no occasion to say anything to him at
all. Declining to return to Masefield's rooms and there
discuss the matter further over tea, Rigby went thought-
fully back to the office of the Planet. He dined alone at
his club, lingering till about ten o'clock over the evening
papers, and then proceeded on his way to Montrose
Place by the somewhat circuitous route of Covent Garden.
But there was more method in Rigby's madness than
met the eye. The sleek, well-groomed barrister and jour-
nalist who entered the shop of Jonas the costumier shortly
after ten o'clock, emerged a little before eleven carefully
and effectually disguised as a seller of newspapers. Then,
with the fag-end of a cigarette of doubtful quality in his
mouth, he slouched along towards his destination.
Montrose Place from a front view was considerably
more prepossessing than the similar outlook that presented
itself from the back. At least half the houses were ten-
anted by people of means, judging from the neatness of the
blinds and the amount of light displayed in the various
windows. Yet, at the same time, it was quite evident that
Bates'estimate was fairly correct.
The first three houses in the terrace bore plates of highly
polished brass, testifying to the fact that doctors were not
lacking in the locality. No. 4, however, stood out in
marked contrast to its neighbors. There was no chance of
Rigby's presence there exciting undue suspicion, for there
was not a soul to be seen in the terrace.


58
The Yellow Face
Emboldened by this fact, Rigby had no hesitation in
lighting a vesta and making a comprehensive examination
of the door-steps. They were dirty enough in all con-
science; no housemaid had knelt there for many months
or even years past; but Rigby's sharp eyes did not fail to
note the fact that some one more than once recently had
left footprints on the grimy flags. They were not clearly
indented footprints; indeed, there was a misty hesitation
about them which at first puzzled the amateur detective
exceedingly.
He struck another match after looking cautiously up and
down the terrace. Nobody was in sight; the precaution
was quite unnecessary; the blue flame picked out the misty
footprints grimed into the filthy steps, and then Rigby un-
derstood. Whoever made those marks had been wearing
rubber-soled shoes.
"And new shoes at that," Rigby muttered to himself.
“I can see the pattern in the centre of the sole clearly in-
dented now. And the prints go and come up and down
the steps quite regularly. Now, the fact that somebody
comes here and wears new rubber shoes makes it clear that
the wearer has been here very recently. It is also evident
that the wearer wears rubber-soled tennis shoes so as to
make no noise. I feel pretty certain that I am going to
learn something now.".
But Rigby was a little too sanguine. In the first place,
he had to gain admission to the house, the front door of
which was locked. It was perhaps a significant fact that,
though the lock of the door was green with rust, the edge
of the rim of the hole where the latch-key indented was
bright and clear at the edges.
“Evidently used regularly," Rigby went on. « Now,
the ordinary caretaker does not usually sport a latch-key;
he or she generally uses the area door. I should not won-
der if the area window was open ; I'll try it."
The area window was not open, but the loose catch had
been carelessly pushed to. The blade of a stout penknife
sufficed to prize the catch, and a moment later Rigby


No. 4, Montrose Place
59
was in the housekeeper's room, safe from all outside obser-
vation.
There was no sign of life here ; no vestige of it on the
stairs leading to the big rooms overhead. Rigby could
not but notice what a fine house it was; the last tenant had
evidently been lavish in the way of decorations. With a
match in his hand carefully shaded from the window,
Rigby crept up the stairs. He could see in the dust lying
there the constantly repeated footprint of the rubber shoe,
indicating that the owner of that shoe was in the habit of
spending a great deal of time there.
But now, so far as he could judge, the house was abso-
lutely deserted. He tried door after door softly, and each
yielded to his touch, revealing gloom and desolation and
dirt by the faint light of the vesta. As each stump burned
low Rigby carefully dropped the end of it in his pocket.
He was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. Almost
before he was fully cognizant of that feeling he paused in
an attitude of rigid attention. Something like the sound of
a smothered cough struck on his ear; it seemed to him
that he could hear somebody approaching. The stair
creaked, and Rigby drew back into a doorway.
He was not mistaken. Somebody was coming up the
stairs.


CHAPTER VIII
THE CHOPIN FANTASIE
It was nearly two hours later before Rigby crept cau-
tiously down the steps and emerged by the way in which
he had entered the house. The street as before was ab-
solutely deserted; so far as Rigby could see he might have
been in a city of the dead. Despite his disguise and the
artistic make-up of his grimy face, an acute spectator
would not have failed to notice the agitation of his features.
He crept with trembling footsteps to the roadway, and
clung to the railings with a swaying air of one who has seen
things the tongue refuses to describe. Then his natural
courage, fanned by the cool air of the evening and the
sense of being no longer isolated, returned with virile force
to him. Mechanically he fumbled in his rags and pro-
duced from a breast pocket a silver cigarette case, that
might have got him into serious trouble if a lynx-eyed
policeman had been near at hand.
"Well, I have seen some queer things in my time, but,
as the poet says, never aught like this,'" Rigby said, with
teeth that chattered a little. “I really must have one of
my own cigarettes."
Despite his excitement, Rigby was conscious that he
ought to be just a little ashamed of himself. He had al-
ways prided himself upon the fact that his nerves were
perfectly under control and that nothing ever put him out,
otherwise he would not have occupied the position he did
at the Planet office. He began to feel the effect of the cool
night air, which braced him like a tonic. As he stood
there waiting for something—though he would have found
it difficult to say what-a policeman came slowly down
the street. Rigby stooped and pretended to be busy with
his stock of papers.
Some spirit of mischief moved him to chaff the represent-
60


The Chopin Fantasie
61
ative of the law, and at the same time test to the utmost
the disguise that he was wearing.
“Paper, sir?" he asked. “All the winners—horrible
murder in Grosvenor Square. Ain't you going to buy
one?"
Apparently the officer was one of the good-tempered sort,
for he only smiled, and in a more or less gruff voice ordered
the news-vender to move on.
“ Just waiting for my pal, sir,” Rigby explained. “I
have never come down this street before, an' I'll take good
care never to come down here again. Why, half these
houses seem to be empty. Look at that show opposite.
'Ow long since anybody has lived there?".
“ Before I came on the beat, anyway," the policeman
explained. “Do you want to take one?"
With a laugh at his own pleasantry the policeman
stalked off down the street, leaving Rigby easier in his
mind and quite satisfied that his disguise would stand any
ordinary test.
He leaned against the area railings absolutely undecided
as to what to do next. With a certain new caution almost
amounting to cowardice—a feeling of which he would be
ashamed at any other time-Rigby turned his back upon
the man who was advancing down the street. At the same
time, so full was he of the horrors that he had lately wit-
nessed, the amateur detective quite forgot the fragrant
cigarette so out of keeping with his character. The
stranger pulled up and, crossing the pavement, tapped
Rigby familiarly on the shoulder.
“ You are not so clever as you think you are,” the
stranger remarked coolly. “You may be a very smart
chap, Dick, and I may be a very dull one, but I have cer-
tainly sufficient brains to know that the average newspaper
tout does not smoke Turkish cigarettes. Besides, after our
conversation this morning, I felt pretty certain that you
would make an attempt to get inside that house."
Rigby laughed in a way that suggested that his nerves
were in a considerably frayed condition.
“So that's you, Jack," he said, with a sigh of relief.


62
The Yellow Face
“ Yes, you are quite right; in fact, I told you I should not
rest to-night until I had seen the inside of that house."
“And did the expedition come up to expectations ?"
Masefield asked eagerly.
“My dear fellow, I have had some weird experiences in
my time, but I would not go through the last hour again
for the wealth of the Indies. In fact, if I tell you what
I've seen, you would set me down for a doddering
lunatic."
The look of self-satisfaction on Jack's face faded away.
He shivered with a strange weird feeling, that strange pre-
sentiment of something dire about to happen. Again, why
should he doubt the fact that something terribly out of the
common had happened to Rigby after his own amazing ex-
periences ?
With his hand on the arm of his friend, he walked ab-
stractedly the whole of the terrace. Here a great arc
light threw a stream of pallid blue upon the motley color-
ing displayed upon a big hoarding. In the centre of the
hoarding, well displayed, was the terrible placard disclos-
ing the grinning features of Nostalgo.
" By Heaven !” Jack exclaimed, “there is no getting
away from the features of that grinning devil. I know
as well as if I had seen it down in black and white that
the awful experiences which have so changed you lately
have to do with that yellow face."
“I am not going to deny it,” Rigby replied ; "and,
what is more, I am not going to tell you what I have seen
in the last two hours—at least, not at present. And now
tell me, to change the subject, what is your private opinion
of Spencer Anstruther?”.
To say that Jack was taken aback by the suddenness
of the question would be a mistake. It will be remem-
bered that on the occasion Masefield last dined with
Anstruther he had pointed out to Claire the amazing like-
ness between Nostalgo and her guardian. Not that it
was possible for anybody to notice this except when
Anstruther was moved to great emotion ; but the fact
remained. And now to find that Rigby's mind was so


The Chopin Fantasie
63
strangely moved in the same train of thought was, to say
the least of it, disturbing.
“What do you mean by asking that question ?" Jack
said guardedly.
" For goodness' sake do not let us have any of this un-
necessary caution between friends like ourselves,” Rigby
said, with great feeling. “ Believe me, my dear friend,
I am not asking this question out of idle curiosity. As
man to man, is he a magnificent genius or the greatest
criminal the world has ever seen ?".
Thus put to it, Jack had no hesitation ; indeed, he could
have had no hesitation in replying to such a direct question
as this.
“I am going to speak quite candidly to you," he said.
“As you are perfectly well aware, knowing the man quite
as well as I do, he is, like most geniuses, an exceedingly
poor man. At the same time, unlike most geniuses, he
is as unscrupulous as he is clever. I have more than an
idea that he could tell us all about this affair, but I prefer
to pose as a person who has come into it by accident,
and who is only languidly interested. I have had some
hesitation in mentioning my estimate of Anstruther's
character to his ward, but I feel very uneasy so far as
Claire is concerned. I know for a fact that Anstruther
is painfully hard up; really, there are times when his
financial straits are absolutely desperate. This being so,
it has occurred to me more than once that Claire's money
must be a strong inducement to prevent her marrying,
for instance, myself.”
“That is by no means a remote contingency,” Rigby
suggested drily.
“My dear fellow, to be perfectly frank with you, Miss
Helmsley and myself have been engaged for the past
two years. Mind you, this is a dead secret. I have a
presentiment, call it foolish if you like, that the announce-
ment of this fact to Anstruther will be the first moment
of real danger for Claire. But why do you so suddenly
spring this question upon me ?"
By way of reply Rigby drew his companion into the


64
The Yellow Face
comparative shadow of a doorway. He had hardly done
so before another figure came jauntily down the street-
a tall, slim figure which seemed strangely familiar to
Masefield.
« The whole place seems to reek of Anstruther to-
night," Jack said, “or perhaps it is my disordered
imagination. But if that is not Anstruther himself, my
eyesight strangely deceives me."
"If you knew as much as I do, or you had learned
what I have learned the last hour, you would not be sur-
prised,” Rigby said. “However, we will soon settle
that. I'll just step across the road and try and sell him
a paper."
Before Jack could lay a detaining hand on the arm of
his friend, Rigby was half way across the street. In the
approved raucous voice of the tribe, the amateur news-
vender tendered Anstruther an Echo. He waved the offer
aside, and made his way down the street with the air of
one who has a definite object in view. With a whine
artistically uttered, Rigby fell back upon the doorway in
which Masefield was concealed.
" Anstruther beyond all shadow of doubt," Rigby said
triumphantly. “Now, I am not a betting man, but I
will lay you any odds in reason that our interesting friend
enters No. 4. Ah, what did I tell you ?".
Surely enough, Anstruther paused in his stride before
the dilapidated door of No. 4. With one swift glance
up and down the street to make certain that he was not
observed, he drew a latch-key from his pocket and dis-
appeared within the dingy portals. On the still night air
the click of the latch-key and the muffled banging of the
door could be heard all down the road. Rigby drew a
sigh of relief.
"Well, I think that'll do for to-night," he said. “I
reckon I have had just about as much as my nerves will
stand. No, I am not going to tell you anything, and I
have no stomach for further adventures this evening. I
am going straight to bed, to sleep if I can. Come around
and see me to-morrow afternoon."


The Chopin Fantasie
65
But curious as he was, and anxious also as he was,
Jack was forced to decline the proffered invitation. Be-
sides, he had promised to take Claire to a matinée concert
at the Albert Hall, to hear a new violinist who so far had
only performed twice before in England. Signor Padini
had come to the metropolis with a marvelous reputation,
but so far he had hardly fulfilled expectations. Still, it
was not the habit of music-lovers like Claire and Masefield
to accept a verdict of this kind at second-hand. There-
fore they had determined to hear the new virtuoso for
themselves.
Not that any thoughts of a harmonious and musical
kind were running in Jack's mind as he walked home
to-night. Try as he would, he could not dismiss the idea
that some grave peril was impending, and that Claire
was likely to be the central figure of the tragedy. But it
is the blessed privilege of youth to throw off the haunting
cares and doubts that assail their elders, and Jack suffered
little on the ground of sleeplessness that night.
All the same, the haunting fears were with him again
on waking in the morning.
But perhaps Claire noticed something of this, for she
put the direct question to her lover when he called on
her the next afternoon. Yet Jack had no intention of
saying anything for the present. He began to speak
somewhat hurriedly of the new violinist, Signor Padini,
and so the conversation lasted till the Albert Hall was
reached.
There was nothing particularly attractive in the concert
generally, and both waited somewhat impatiently for the
foreigner to appear. He came at length, tall, slim, and
clean-shaven, and Claire noticed with an amused smile
that for once she was in the presence of a master who
eschewed long hair. She turned and whispered some-
thing to this effect to Jack, who did not appear to be
listening.
“Now, where have I seen that fellow before ?” he
muttered. “Call me foolish if you like, say this man is
an absolute stranger to England if you please ; but I am


66
The Yellow Face
absolutely prepared to swear that his face is quite familiar
to me.”
But perhaps it was merely a chance likeness, Claire
suggested. She was far too interested in the musician
to take much heed of what Jack said. Evidently this man
knew his business to his finger-tips; the way in which
he handled his bow would have proved that to any critic.
Claire glanced down the programme; and no sooner did
the wild sweeping music come streaming from the strings
than the whole audience thrilled responsive to the master's
touch. He was not, after all, playing the piece standing
against his name on the programme, but the peculiar
weird and mournful rhapsodie of Chopin's that Jack had
heard Anstruther interpreting two nights before. He
leaned back; his eyes were half closed with a strange
sensation that he was listening to Anstruther now. He
turned to suggest something of this to Claire, and to his
surprise he noticed that her face was paler than his own.
“Does anything strike you?" he whispered. “Have
you a feeling, like myself, of having gone through all
this before?"
“ Dreadful!" Claire shuddered. “I know exactly
what you mean. It is the same, precisely the same, as
if my guardian had crept inside the body of Padini –
There ! Did you notice that particular slur, that strange
half hesitation? I declare, I feel certain that this Padini
was in my guardian's study the other night. Jack, you
must get at the bottom of this ; there is some mystery
here which we must solve, and that without delay."
Jack rose from his seat and buttoned his coat firmly
about him.
“Ay," he said, “ a deeper mystery than you are aware
of. Stay here while I go behind the stage. I am going
to see Signor Padini, and get to the bottom of this business
at any cost.”


CHAPTER IX
THE MAN WITH THE FAIR MOUSTACHE
CLAIRE sat there, her mind half on her music and half
on the extraordinary conduct of her lover. Not that she
did not trust him implicitly; but, still, it seemed strange
that he should have gone off without explaining the cause
of his agitation.
Some one next to her touched her on the elbow and
asked a question as to an item on the programme. The
question was repeated twice before Claire realized that she
would have to pull herself together. She replied quite at
random; then she looked about her, and became cog-
nizant of the fact that Padini was still on the stage, bow-
ing his acknowledgments of the thunderous applause which
had greeted his magnificent efforts.
Yet a closer glance did not serve to show Claire any-
thing sinister in the artist's personality. He was pale and
clean-shaven, palpably very nervous, and yet pleased with
the warmth of his reception. Surely there could have been
no mystery connected with a man like this.
On the other hand, the marvelous likeness between his
playing and the execution in the same piece displayed by
Anstruther two nights ago could not possibly be overlooked
by any one professing to any musical knowledge at all.
Claire hoped that the inevitable encore would produce a
repetition of the same piece.
Surely enough, Padini came forward and struck the
opening bars of the same rhapsodie. With eyes closed and
mind eagerly concentrated on the music, Claire followed
every passage with rapt attention. There was no longer
any possibility of mistake. The Padini interpretation of
the piece was exactly that of Anstruther. Was Anstruther,
therefore, a consummate master of his art or a showy
67


68
The Yellow Face
humbug or charlatan? Could it have been possible that
this new artist had been concealed in the Panton Square
library two nights before? But, on the face of it, this was
absolutely impossible. Padini had only been in England
a little over eight and forty hours, and his first appearance
in London had been at a musical “at home" on the same
night that Anstruther had played the Nocturne in Panton
Square.
Claire was still debating this problem in her mind when
Jack returned to his seat. He looked a little pale and
shaky, but the grim smile on his face was determined
enough.
“My dearest girl, I am going to ask you a little favor,"
Jack whispered. “I hope you won't think it the least
rude of me, but I want you to excuse me going back with
you. Can't you guess that there is something more than
meets the eye here?".
“I should be very blind indeed if I did not," Claire re-
plied. “Jack, what is the meaning of this strange mys-
tery? Either Signor Padini was at our house the other
night, or my guardian learned to play that rhapsodie after
having had lessons from the man on the platform before
us."
“I may be wrong, of course," Jack said, “but I feel
pretty sure that I have guessed the problem. That is why
I want you to go off by yourself, and leave me to play the
detective so far as Padini is concerned. It is not altogether
a pleasant job, but I am going to follow that fellow when
he leaves the Hall."
So saying, Jack rose from his seat, and Claire obediently
followed his example. Once outside, Jack called a cab,
and gave the driver his instructions.
“I think that will be all right," he said. “You may
expect me to come round after dinner, my darling girl.
I hope you are not in the least annoyed with me; but there
is danger ahead for you and me, and it is my duty to pre-
vent it at all hazards. I declare if I had not almost for-
gotten one of the most important things I had to say to
you. On no account are you to breathe a word of this


The Man With the Fair Moustache 69
afternoon's visit to your guardian. He is not to know that
you have been with me or anybody else to the Albert Hall
to-day."
Claire glanced at the pale, anxious face of her lover and
gave the desired assurance. She felt perfectly safe in his
hands; he would tell her all there was to be told in due
course; and now for the first time she congratulated her-
self on the fact that her engagement had been kept a secret
from Anstruther.
Meanwhile Jack had returned to the back of the Hall.
So far as he could recollect, Padini was down on the pro-
gramme for no further item that afternoon, therefore it was
only a matter of waiting till the violinist emerged, and fol-
lowing him to his destination. But Jack had succeeded
in consuming three cigarettes without any sign of the
artist rewarding his patience. Taking half-a-crown from
his pocket, he crossed the road and proceeded to interview
the stage-door keeper.
"Oh, that foreign-looking chap, is it?" the stage-door
guardian said. “Signor Somebody or other who plays the
fiddle. Why, he's been gone the last ten minutes."
“ Gone !" Tack exclaimed, with palpable dismay.
“Why, I have been watching most carefully for him the
last half-hour. Was he wrapped up or shawled in any
way?"
Whilst Jack still stood arguing there a slim young man,
with fair moustache turned upwards à la German Em-
peror, passed and repassed him hurriedly. The stranger
passed into a smartly appointed hansom and vanished.
"Well, there's your man,” the doorkeeper exclaimed.
“He must have forgotten something and returned for it."
Jack muttered his thanks, parted with his half-crown,
and went into the roadway thoroughly puzzled. He could
not for a moment doubt the word of the doorkeeper, who
was naturally an expert in a recognition of faces. As a
matter of fact, the man with the turned-up moustache was
the same individual who had been so mysteriously con-
cealed in Panton Square, and who had afterwards accom-
panied the deaf-mute girl to Mr. Carrington's. On the


70
The Yellow Face
stage Padini had appeared as a slight, slim man, whose face
was absolutely devoid of hair.
Jack stood thoughtfully in the middle of the road, won-
dering what to do next. His first idea was to go at once
and look up Rigby. He must have been standing there a
great deal longer than he had imagined, for presently he
saw the smart hansom return and take its place on the
rank. Here was a slice of luck indeed. Jack crossed over
and hailed the hansom.
“ Here, I want you to drive me to the office of the
Planet,” he said. “I suppose you know where that is.
Do you want to earn an extra half-sovereign ?”.
"That's the way I was educated," said the cabman,
with a grin. “Oh, my last fare, is it? Well, I can easily
answer that question. Gent with the cocked-up moustache.
I have just driven him to 5, Panton Square."
Jack stepped into the hansom, feeling that luck was en-
tirely on his side. He knew now that he was on the track
of something more than mere coincidence. For 5, Panton
Square was no less a place than the residence of Spencer
Anstruther, Claire's guardian. Here was proof positive
that Padini, the violinist, a perfect stranger to London,
was at any rate on terms of friendship with Anstruther.
There was nothing for it now but to seek out Rigby and
tell him all that had happened without delay. Rigby was
found in his room at the Planet office, mournfully drawing
skeletons on a sheet of blotting-paper. He nodded
thoughtfully as Jack came in; then, catching sight of the
latter's eager face, asked what was in the wind.
“I have been making discoveries galore," Jack re-
sponded. “You would hardly expect me to do that
through the medium of an afternoon concert; but there
it is. You have heard of this new violinist, Signor
Padini, I suppose ?"
“Oh, yes," Rigby said indifferently. “Well, a typical
class of foreign boomster, I suppose.”
“ That is not the point," Jack proceeded to explain.
“ You will recollect what I told you about the empty study
in Anstruther's house from which the music proceeded in


The Man With the Fair Moustache 71
that strange, unaccountable manner. Naturally, I thought
the player was Anstruther himself—Anstruther wonderfully
improved or inspired beyond all recognition ; but now I
know that such was not the case. Dick, there is some-
thing devilish in this strange business—the empty room,
the unearthly music, the strange appearance of that young
man with his deaf-mute companion, followed so closely by
the death of Nostalgo. What does it all mean?"
“I will give a thousand pounds to know,” Rigby re-
sponded.
"Well, I think I can tell you,” Jack went on. “ You
will recollect the night before last, during our chance
meeting at Carrington's, that I asked you to keep an eye
on a young man with moustache turned up à la German
Emperor. Would you be surprised to hear that this young
man was no less a person than Signor Padini ?".
“ Impossible !” Rigby exclaimed. “How could you
prove such a statement ?".
"Well, I am going to prove it, anyway. Together with
Miss Helmsley I went to hear Padini this afternoon. By
some strange freak of fate he had chosen Chopin's Rhap-
sodie in F as his item on the programme. Directly he be-
gan to play my mind went back to that strange, weird
music in Anstruther's study. It was not I alone who
noticed this subtle resemblance; in fact, Claire recognized
it as soon as I did. Mind you, every musician of note has
his little tricks and fancies which are absolutely peculiar to
himself. When I shut my eyes, I could literally hear
Padini playing in Anstruther's house.
“I sent Claire home in a cab, and proceeded to wait
till Padini left the Albert Hall. I missed him, of course,
for Padini was a clean-shaven man on the stage. As a
matter of fact, he must be a very conceited creature, see-
ing that in private life he wears a fair moustache. I got
that from the doorkeeper ; but, what is more to the point,
the cabman who drove me here is the same man who half-
an-hour ago dropped Padini at Anstruther's house. Now,
I would like to know what you make of that.”
Rigby listened thoughtfully to all that Jack had had to


72
The Yellow Face
say.
The significance of the revelations was not lost upon
him.
“ And yet, I dare say, Anstruther would deny any
knowledge of Padini if you asked him," he said. “Still,
we know a great deal, and, clever as Anstruther is, he
cannot possibly conceive the fact that we are so closely ac-
quainted with his movements. Let's go and call upon the
beggar, shall we? Pretend that we want to consult him
on some matter of business. Anything will do. Did you
keep your cab?"
"Well, yes ; it occurred to me that we might want him
again, and, besides, the driver can prove that he left
Padini at 5, Panton Square."
Panton Square was reached at length; the cabman had
been discreetly dropped at the corner of the street. Jack
rang the bell, which was answered by Serena. In the full
light of the afternoon sunshine her strange, inscrutable face
looked more haggard and strange than usual. There was
the same furtive droop of her eyelids, the same pitiable
shake of her hands, that suggested the beaten hound, that
Jack had so often noticed before. He would have given
much, as a writer of stories himself, to have known the
secret history of this woman. Docile and tame as she ap-
peared to be, she was still capable of passionate emotion, or
the dilatation of her black pupils spoke falsely. Though she
was meek and friendly enough, there was ever a suggestion
that she was on her guard.
“ Your master in ” Rigby asked breezily. “But we
know that he is. Don't you trouble about us, we will go
to the study ourselves.”
Serena stood there as if something gripped her throat
and choked her utterance.
“But my master is not at home," she protested. “He
has not been at home all day ; neither do I know what
time to expect him to-night. I fancy he is out of town
altogether."
" That's rather awkward," Rigby said. "We came
here on business, expecting to meet a friend of ours. I


The Man With the Fair Moustache 73
suppose you have seen nothing of him-a tall, slim young
man, with rather a fierce type of moustache ?".
" There has been no visitor calling here to-day," Serena
replied, with the air of one who repeats a well-learned les-
son. “I am the only servant in the house at present, and
should have known if anybody had called.”
Jack did not dare to glance at his companion, feeling
that those dark, interrogating eyes were fixed upon his
face. A sudden impulse moved Jack; he decided upon
trying the effect of a swift surprise. He tapped the woman
familiarly on the shoulder.
“ Come, come,” he said, with a jocular ring in his
voice. “Do you mean to tell me that you have not had a
visit to-day from Signor Padini ?" .
A stifled cry broke from the woman; she clenched her
hands in an attitude of pain.


CHAPTER X
WHAT DID SHE KNOW?
Nothing was said for a full minute. Serena stood
there, gazing from one to the other as a child might do
who finds herself in the presence of two harsh taskmasters.
There was something pitiable about her hopelessness; the
fighting glint had left her eyes; she stood there downcast
and shaking as a slave might do.
“I am afraid I do not understand what you mean,” the
woman said.
In a way Jack was feeling very sorry for Serena. Ever
since he had known Anstruther and been a friend of the
household the woman had held a certain subtle fascination
for him. Though Jack had not made as yet much prog.
ress in the paths of literature, he had all the quick dra-
matic feeling which is essential to the making of a success-
ful novelist.
It had often occurred to him that so mysterious a figure
as Serena would have made a splendid character for a
strong novel. He watched the woman carefully now; he
saw how her breast was heaving, and what a great fight she
was making to keep her emotions under control.
“I am afraid I must press you for an answer," Jack
said. “Signor Padini can be nothing to you, and yet
you start and cry out when his name is mentioned as if
I had struck you a blow. Now, tell me, was the man I
speak of a visitor to this house last night ? What time
did he come?".
“My master's business is my master's business,” Serena
said sullenly. “He tells me nothing-he tells nobody
anything. And who am I, a humble servant like me, to
ask questions of my master ?"
Rigby shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. He began to
see that there was nothing to gain here. He nodded to
74


What Did She Know ?
75
Jack and half turned away. But Jack was not to be so
easily suppressed.
“ But, surely," he urged, “ you would be doing no
harm in telling us if a foreign gentleman called here last
night?"
"I will tell you nothing," Serena cried. “Why do
you come and bully a poor woman like this ?".
And yet, at the same time, though Jack knew how faith-
ful she was to her master, he could not but feel that she
was not antagonistic to Claire and himself. With a sud-
den impulse he pushed his way into the hall, followed by
Rigby.
* We all make mistakes sometimes," he said. “Now,
are you quite sure you have made no mistake about your
master? Mr. Anstruther is a law unto himself; he comes
and goes as he likes, and it is just possible that he might
have returned without you being aware of the fact. There
is nothing to be frightened about ; we are not here to mur-
der him for the sake of his Apostle spoons.”
As Jack ceased to speak he made a swift sign to Rigby
behind the woman's back, and the latter understood. He
would go off to the library and see for himself if An-
struther had returned. As the hall door closed behind him,
Serena rushed impulsively forward and threw herself head-
long at Jack's feet. Her attitude had entirely changed ;
she was no longer the half-dumb slave of circumstance, no
longer a mere machine answering to the call of her master,
but a living, palpitating woman. The change was so quick,
so dramatic and unexpected, that Jack had no voice of
protest left to him.
“For heaven's sake, do not do it!" Serena whispered
hoarsely ; «and, if not that, for your own sake I implore
you to stay your hand. Oh, I am not so blind and foolish
as you think I am not the dull, stupid creature that my
master takes me to be. You can deceive him where love
and honor are concerned, but you cannot blind my eyes,
because I have loved, alas ! too well myself. Do not think
that I pry and watch, for such is not my nature. And yet
I know as well as if you had told me in so many words that


76
The Yellow Face
Miss Claire and yourself are something more than friends.
I cannot speak more plainly because I dare not ; but if you
would save the girl you love from the terrible danger that
hangs over her, you will be blind to all that goes on in this
dreadful house."
The words which had begun so hoarsely and quietly came
at the finish with the torrential force of a mountain stream.
Surprised as he had been, Jack's self-possession had not
quite deserted him. Hitherto he had regarded the silent
Serena as an old woman, but now that her face was
transformed and glowing with emotions he could see that
she was still comparatively young. He could see also,
and the fact gave him a vague sense of satisfaction, that
this woman's sympathies were entirely with Claire and
himself,
“Will you get up, please?" he said, and his own voice
was just a little shaky. “It is not right for a woman to
kneel to a man like that. Serena, you are not what you
seem. You are not a servant in the ordinary acceptation
of the word; you spoke just now like a refined and
educated woman. You may say that is no business of
mine, and, indeed, I do not wish to pry into your past, but
you must see that this matter cannot possibly stop here.
You denied just now that Signor Padini had been here at
all. You denied the presence of your master, and yet I
can hear his voice on the other side of the study door at
this moment. You will perhaps also deny that you heard
of No. 4, Montrose Place."
It was merely a bow drawn at a venture, but the shaft
seemed to strike home to the feather. Serena had risen
painfully and slowly to her knees; she staggered back
against the table and contemplated Jack with dilated eyes.
"Oh, you have gone further than I dreamed," she
moaned. “You are a strong, masterful man, and I see
now that nothing I can say will turn you from your pur-
pose."
“Since you have made up your mind to that,” Jack
said grimly, “perhaps you had better be candid with me
and tell me all you know. For some time past I have felt


What Did She Know?
77
a strong conviction that Anstruther is no better than a con-
summate scoundrel. Discreet as he is, I have come to the
conclusion that this is no house for Miss Helmsley. I am
quite certain that you would find both of us more sincere
friends than the man you call your master. Why not,
therefore, leave him and throw in your lot with us?"
The woman wrung her hands piteously; Jack could see
the tears rolling down her face.
“Oh, if I only could—if I only dared," she whispered;
" and yet I cannot, even if it were only for your sakes.
If you only knew what was hanging over you-but I must
say no more. When that man comes to me, when I stand
before him with his eyes looking into mine, I ani compelled
to give him up the secrets of my very soul. I wish from
the bottom of my heart that -
Serena clutched at her throat with a quivering hand, as
if something choked her, and rushed impulsively from the
room. She had said nothing, and yet she had said so
much. Her very reticence, her hesitation to speak defi-
nitely against her master, had proved conclusively to Jack
what a consummate scoundrel Anstruther was. He was
still debating the matter in his mind when Rigby came
back to him. The latter did not speak; instead of that,
he took Jack by the arm and piloted him quietly and
firmly to the front door. They were in the street before
Jack could ask the meaning of this cautious conduct.
“One can't be too cautious in a case like this,” Rigby
explained. “It was just as I had expected. Anstruther
was at home; he, indeed, had not been out all day, which
fact was proved by his still being in dressing-gown and
slippers. Our usually self-contained friend had either
been dissipating last night or he has had disturbing news;
at any rate, he was very pale and shaky, and did not seem
in the least pleased to see me. Not that I think that he
was in the least suspicious of my visit."
“Did you happen to see anything of Padini?" Jack
asked eagerly.
“Well, I did and I did not,” Rigby explained. "At
any rate, the Italian was not in the study, though he had


28
The Yellow Face
been there, from the simple fact that a music case and a
rather jaunty-looking Homburg hat rested on a side table.
Did you happen to notice if Padini was wearing a Hom-
burg hat this afternoon ?"
Jack was able to reassure his friend on that point,
whereupon Rigby proceeded to ask if anything had hap-
pened during the time he was left alone with Serena.
Rigby listened with interest to all that Jack had to say.
- That's a woman we ought to get hold of," he said
thoughtfully. “Unless I am greatly mistaken, she can
tell us all we want to know. As a matter of fact, she
has told us a great deal, though perhaps without knowing
it. At any rate, from what you say, she is quite aware of
the fact that something uncanny is going on at 4,
Montrose Place. I feel perfectly certain that the body of
Nostalgo was smuggled away via that empty house ; we
know perfectly well that Anstruther is in the habit of going
there, and we are equally sure that the very mention of the
house filled Serena with terror. As we have plenty of time
on our side, and there seems to be no immediate hurry, you
and I are going to keep our eye on that place. You were
very anxious last night to know what I had seen there.
Well, you have plenty of pluck and courage of your own;
you shall come with me presently and verify the thing for
yourself."
“Do you mean to say we are going to keep a vigil there
to-night?" Jack asked.
" That's about the size of it," Rigby answered coolly.
" You had better come round to my rooms not a moment
later than half-past ten. Mind you, we are not going there
as ourselves, but you can leave a disguise quite safely to me.
Don't bring a revolver or anything noisy of that kind ;
something in the way of a thick stick would be much safer.
By the way, didn't you tell me that you were going to see
Miss Helmsley to-night? Take my advice, call there and
dine as if nothing had happened, and directly Anstruther
makes an excuse to return to his study, slip away from the
house without the formality of leave-taking and come to my
place at once."


What Did She Know ?
79
It was not easy work for a straightforward fellow like
Jack to sit with Anstruther on the other side of the table,
discussing trivial topics as if there was nothing grim and
terrible behind this picture of refined home life. Jack was
conscious of carrying himself off fairly well, what time
Anstruther rose from the table with an excuse that he had
work to do.
"Please don't think I am avoiding your company,"
Anstruther said pleasantly, “ and don't be annoyed if you
hear the sound of my violin presently. As a matter of fact,
my thoughts are always clearest when inspired by the sounds
of music."
Jack muttered something suitable to the occasion, and
exchanged glances with Claire directly Anstruther left the
room.
Just as that genius had prophesied, the sweet strains
of the violin stole from the study presently. Claire
listened with an interest which was vivid and thrilling
beyond words.
“Now, listen to that," she cried. “Did you ever hear
anything like it? Did you ever hear Mr. Anstruther play
in that style and manner before ? Note the little slurs,
the half hesitation, which is at once so dramatic and
artistic. If you close your eyes, you might swear that
you are listening to Padini himself."
" It really is amazing," Jack murmured. “ Padini to
the life; the Italian to a semitone. And yet we know
perfectly well that it cannot be Padini, because at this
very moment he is waiting to take his turn at the Queen's
Hall concert. Claire, you must try to get to the bottom
of this. I cannot possibly believe that this infernal jug-
gling is conceived merely to satisfy the vanity of Anstruther,
for, in the first place, we form so small an audience.
There is something behind this much more serious than
the soothing of a clever man's vanity. And now I must
be off.”
Claire pleaded with her lover to stay a little longer,
but, mindful of Rigby's strict injunctions, he was fain
to refuse. In the light of recent knowledge he had no


80
The Yellow Face
occasion to feel sure that Anstruther was still on the
premises, despite the fact of those exquisite strains of
music emanating from the library. He had not forgotten
the strange experience in that direction two nights before.
Still, the sweet, melancholy melody could be distinctly
heard by Jack as he crossed the road.
Rigby was impatiently awaiting his friend, and he had
all the disguises sent up to his bedroom. He listened
eagerly to all Jack had to say whilst artistically making
himself up as a news-vender. A glance at himself in the
glass reassured Jack; he felt pretty sure in his mind that
no one could possibly recognize him attired as he was now.
“What's the programme ?” he asked, completing the
illusion with a short clap pipe. “Are we going straight
away to Montrose Place ?"
Rigby replied that that was the intention. It was
getting near to eleven o'clock before the friends reached
Montrose Place; so far as they could see they had the
terrace entirely to themselves. A policeman strode
majestically down the road, flashing his lantern here and
there, and finally disappeared from sight.
“Now's our time," Rigby said eagerly ; “no chance
of being interrupted for the next ten minutes. You stand
at the top of the steps whilst I sneak down and open the
window. We shall have to fumble our way up-stairs,
because it is by no means safe to use matches. Still, I
have the geography of the house quite clear in my mind.
Come along."
They were in the grim, dusty house at last. Jack was
conscious only of the intense darkness and musty smell
of the place. Carefully piloted by Rigby, he reached the
second floor landing at length, and there Rigby grasped
his arm significantly. There was no sound at first save
the scratching of mice behind the panel or the fiutter of
some ragged blind swayed in the piercing draught. Then
suddenly it seemed to Jack that a solemn footfall sounded
in a room close by, a door opened with a pop like a pistol
crack, and a long slit of light, dazzling in its brilliancy,
fell like a lance upon the dusty floor. Somebody laughed


What Did She Know?
somewhere, a laugh that sounded so near and yet so far
away; then the door opened wider, and a partial view
of the interior of the room could be seen.
Utterly taken by surprise, moved and horrified to the
depths of his soul, Jack could have cried out, but for the
hand clapped upon his mouth like a steel trap.
“ Not a sound,” Rigby whispered sternly. “ For
heaven's sake, restrain yourself, and look, look !"


CHAPTER XI
THE SHADOW ON THE WALL
Jack needed no second bidding ; he was only too anxious
and eager to follow the direction of Rigby's outstretched
finger. He was by no means lacking in the nerve and
pluck which generally go to a young man of fine physique
and clean habit. But there was something about the
whole of this affair, a creeping suggestion of diabolical
crime, such as one only encounters in the wildest realms
of fiction.
And yet it seemed to Jack that his reading of the daily
press recalled things just as vile in every-day life. With
teeth clenched firmly, with a stern resolution to do nothing
very likely to precipitate what might have been a terrible
catastrophe, Jack looked into the room before him. As
the door was half open and the two friends were hidden
in the blackish shadow, it was possible to watch without
the slightest chance of being seen.
For an empty house, dusty and gloomy and deserted
as it was, the room in front of our two adventurers
presented a striking contrast to the rest of the place.
There was no window, or at least, where the window
ought to have been, something in the way of an iron
shutter stood, and over this a great wealth of silken
hangings was artistically arranged. As to the rest of the
apartment, the furniture was directly in keeping with the
abode of a millionaire. Jack did not fail to notice the
rich Persian carpet, the luxurious chairs and settees of
the First Empire period, the fine pictures on the walls.
The walls, too, had been recently decorated, so that there
was not a single jarring note to mar the harmonious
whole. There were flowers, too, grouped in the corners
of the room and piled cunningly around the electrolier
standing on the centre table.
82


The Shadow on the Wall
83
“Now, that is a strange thing,” Jack whispered. “So
far as I could see, so far as I can see now, there is no
sign whatever of the electric lighting in any other part of
the house. Do you suppose that these people have taken
this house in the ordinary way, or is it possible that
" Not a bit of it,” Rigby replied. “They're not the
sort of people to do anything as foolish as that. Nor would
there be any occasion to go to the expense. Depend upon
it, they know all about the character of the owner of this
property, and that it is not in the least likely to let unless
put thoroughly in order."
“ Then, what about the electric light?" Jack suggested.
“ That would have to be put in by somebody. These
people could not tap the main, or anything of that kind.”
“There's a much simpler way than that, my dear
fellow. Dr. Adamson lives next door, and I know per-
fectly well that he has electric light. It does not require
much technical knowledge to wire a house, and anybody
with a small amount of common sense could easily drill a
small hole through a partition and attach a wire to one
of the main lines next door. I think that explains the
problem.”
Jack had no further question to ask for the moment.
His full attention now was concentrated on the occupants
of the room. There were three of them altogether, two
being dressed like superior mechanics, and were evidently
there for some purpose connected with machinery. The
third man, superior in every way to his companions, had
his back turned to the door, so that it was impossible to
get a glimpse of his features. He had in front of him
an ingenious-looking arrangement, not unlike a magic
lantern or a contrivance for throwing cinematograph
pictures on a screen. At a sign from him, one of the
workmen drew back the silken draperies covering what
ought to have been the window, and a white sheet stood
confessed.
“Give me the third slide by your left hand,” the
operator commanded. “That will do. Now switch out
the light.”
infessed


84
The Yellow Face
There was a click and a jerk, and immediately the whole
room was plunged in darkness save for the fierce disc
of blinding light that flashed upon the screen. Almost
immediately a dazzling disc was transformed to the face
of a man. Jack clutched at the arm of his companion.
“By heaven ! do you see that ?" he whispered. “It
is nothing more nor less than the face of Nostalgo. Do
you think this is merely a development of some novel form
of advertisement, or is it possible that these fellows have
hit upon some novel way of putting in posters ?"
But Rigby had nothing to say. He was too deeply in-
terested in the spectacle before him. It had occurred to
him for the moment that there might have been something
in what Jack suggested. It was just possible also that what
he took to be a large sheet was no more than a wide stretch
of paper.
At any rate, there was no hurry. There would be plenty
of time to ascertain whether the supposed sheet on the wall
was paper or not. Rigby had made no reply to Jack's
cogent question, but he seemed to be quite as interested as
his friend.
“ Hang me if I know what to think of it," he said at
length. “ It seems to me as if these fellows were trying to
work out something quite new in the way of lantern slides.
Mind you, it is just possible that we are mistaken altogether
in our assumption that Anstruther is carrying out some
cunning rascality. These men may, after all, be no more
or less than honest workmen."
"I can't quite see that point,” Jack replied. “Honest
workmen do not, as a rule, come in this furtive way to an
empty house. Besides, look at them."
“ That is all very well,” Rigby argued. “But suppos-
ing that you were engaged upon some secret process which
you did not want anybody to know anything about. And,
besides, Anstruther is quite a genius in his way, and there
is no reason why he should not be engaged upon inventing
some new process of lithography."
“ In that case," Jack said, “is it not a strange coinci-
dence that they should be manufacturing these Nostalgo


The Shadow on the Wall
posters? I grant you that Anstruther is absolutely a
genius, but his talents always take a sinister bent; in fact,
I don't think the fellow could be honest if he tried. Still,
we have plenty of time to find out.”
“Do you really think that is paper ?” Rigby asked.
" It looks to me like it."
“ It looks to me like it, too,” Jack said ; " but we shall
have to possess our souls in patience.”
“Hang me if I don't go and see,” he said. “No, I
don't see that there is any great danger unless they should
happen to turn up the light again, and I do not suppose
they will do that until the experiment is finished.".
“For goodness' sake, do nothing rash,” Jack implored.
“From what we have already seen, we have to do with a
gang who would not hesitate to cut our throats if it served
their purpose.”
The thing, after all, was not so hazardous as Jack had
imagined. Just for an instant, as if by accident, one of
the shaded electrics on the wall flashed out in a pin-point
of diamond light.
“You clumsy fool !” growled the man behind the
lantern. “What did you do that for ? You might have
spoilt all my work by your blundering folly."
The erring workman grunted out something in the way
of an apology and a promise that he would be more careful
in the future. Here, then, was Rigby's opportunity. He
knew now that there was no likelihood of the light being
turned on again for some time to come. All he had to do,
therefore, was to creep cautiously, wriggling like a snake
across the floor, until he could touch the huge screen and
ascertain whether it were paper or cloth.
He took a penknife from his pocket and opened a small
blade. So dense was the darkness of the room by con-
trast with the vivid lane of light thrown upon the screen
that the journey was practically devoid of peril, so long
as no one touched the switch of the electrics. There-
fore Rigby crept along, his nerves braced to the highest
tension and an exhilarating sense of danger strong upon
him. He could see now that the white sheet extended


86
The Yellow Face
from floor to ceiling, the edges of it seeming black and
firm like an iron plate in contrast with the brilliant white
centre.
He was close to it now, so close indeed that, with a
cautious movement of his arm, he could touch the sheet.
A single prick with a sharp point of his knife gave him all
the information that he needed. It was a sheet of paper
surely enough. A moment later Rigby was standing by
Jack's side once more.
«Paper," he whispered. “Really, this adventure is
likely to prove prosaic after all. Don't you think we are
rather making a mountain out of a molehill? We know
that Anstruther is a great rascal, but at the same time he
is an exceedingly clever man, and, as you know, inclined
to be secretive. Now, isn't it just possible that our friend
has hit upon some new process of photo-lithography, and
that we are witnessing an experiment to demonstrate the
value of the new idea.".
"I don't think so," Jack replied. “Indeed, since you
have been away, I have made something in the way of a
discovery also. Mark well the picture thrown upon
the screen yonder. You know what it represents, of
course?”
“Well, naturally. I have seen the diabolical face of
Nostalgo on too many posters not to be absolutely familiar
with his ugly mug. Depend upon it, those fellows are
printing the famous poster in some way known to them-
selves. Maybe we shall see that self-same sheet on some
hoarding to-morrow.”
“But that is not what I meant at all," Jack proceeded
to explain. “ If you are as familiar with the poster as you
say you are, you will notice a considerable difference in
this one. In the first place, the face is a little more in
profile, and surely you must notice the difference in the
hands."
“Right you are," Rigby replied. “In the present
instance the hands are half-extended, as if in the act of
clutching something. Strange that I had not noticed that
before. What do you make it out to be ?"


The Shadow on the Wall
87
“ Hush !" Jack whispered. “I think our ingenious
friend behind the lantern will explain that for himself."
The leading operator in the room gave a short curt sign
and the brilliant lights flashed up once more. The slide
was also drawn from the lantern, but the sinister features
of the dark, repulsive face upon the screen did not vanish
as might have been expected. On the contrary, the grim
face frowned down as if it had been brushwork from the
pencil of some imaginative artist. One of the workmen
approached the sheet and dragged it to the floor. Then
the three men in the room bent over the poster and ex-
amined it critically.
“It seems to me that the hand is a little out of draw-
ing," the leader of the trio remarked critically. “Give
me the paints-the white paint, I mean."
The speaker took a brush heavily charged with some
white pigment and proceeded to touch up the hand. He
cut this portion from the sheet and placed it in the slide
of the lantern. Then another large sheet of paper was
erected in front of the window, and the lights turned out
again. Almost immediately there appeared upon the disc
the shadow of a huge, bony hand uplifting a dagger in a
menacing attitude. A grunt of approval came from the
man behind the lantern, and once more the lights were
turned up.
“ There, what did I tell you ?" Jack asked eagerly.
"I am sure the different attitudes of that man's hand are
meant for signs."
“ Indeed, it would seem so," Rigby was forced to
admit. “We'd better stay here and await develop-
ments."
For the next hour or so the mysterious process of print.
ing the posters continued. It was exactly as Jack's in-
genious mind had forecast. In every instance, although
the dark and sinister features remained the same, the
attitude of the hand was different. It was a strange and
most important discovery that the two friends had made ;
but, instead of making their task easier, the problem had
become still more intricate. Was all this part of some


88
The Yellow Face
cunning device for attracting public attention, something
absolutely new in the way of advertisement, or did it
signify a deeper and more sinister purpose ?
Jack recollected now how frequently Anstruther had al-
luded in his hearing to the ramifications of secret societies.
With his intimate knowledge of criminality, and having
every assistance from the police always at his disposal,
Anstruther's acquaintance with the seamy side of life was
extensive and peculiar. But was he now helping the police
as usual, or was he engaged himself upon some ingenious
conspiracy for the aggrandizement of himself and his
satellites ?
It was difficult to say, it was still more difficult to prove
anything, seeing that the work of printing was still pro-
ceeding in silence. If these men would only speak, if they
would only utter some word which might give a clue to
what they were doing, the spies would have been more sat-
isfied. Their only hope was to watch and wait on the off-
chance of a careless word.
They were listening so eagerly indeed that they almost
failed to notice the sound of a footstep which now echoed
on the stairs. They were so close to the door that any
one reaching their landing from below could hardly fail to
make out the outline of their figures. Rigby had barely
time to drag his companion back into the velvety darkness
beyond before the newcomer was past them and had en-
tered the room.
“How now, you secret, black, and midnight bags ?".
the newcomer cried. “How are you getting on? No-
body interrupting you-seen nothing of the police or any-
thing of that kind ?”
"No doubt as to who that is," Rigby whispered. “I
should recognize Anstruther's voice anywhere. I told you
he was at the bottom of this business.”
Anstruther stood before them, tall and distinguished in
his evening dress, and there was no sign about him that he
was doing anything more than pursuing a quite normal
occupation.
“Not at all a bad evening's work,” he said. “Are we


The Shadow on the Wall
all here, or is Carrington late again? Confound that fel-
low! I begin to wish we hadn't taken him into the busi-
ness at all. But I do not think he is at all likely to play
me false; it will be a bad day's work for him if he does.”
“Carrington, too," Jack muttered significantly; “that
is your rich banker friend, Dick. The plot thickens apace.
It seems impossible for anybody to come in contact with
Anstruther and retain his respectability."


CHAPTER XII
LOCKED IN !
QUITE unconscious that his most dangerous enemies
were so near, Anstruther carefully selected a cigarette and
lighted it. He proceeded then to make a careful examina-
tion of the pile of posters at his feet, and smiled his ap-
proval.
“ Very good, very good indeed; those hands stand out
beautifully. Within a week's time from now the message
will have been carried from London to St. Petersburg and
from Paris to Constantinople. The men I am after cannot
get away from me. Whatever great capital they are in,
that poster confronts their eyes like an avenging conscience.
Then they realize their helplessness and bow to the inevita-
ble. You may doubt me if you like; but I tell you that
this scheme is absolutely sure and safe.”
"Provided that we have the money to carry it out,” the
man behind the lantern grunted. “Don't forget that.
Clever as you are, you can't make money by merely hold-
ing up your little finger. You promised us a thousand
pounds when we had finished our part of the bargain, and
that was completed a month ago. Of course, you have
got the cash in your pocket ?".
A frown of annoyance crossed Anstruther's face. There
was a clenching of his hands not unlike that depicted by
the poster of the mysterious Nostalgo; he made a half step
forward ; then he seemed to get himself in hand again, and
smiled carelessly.
“As a matter of fact, I have not the money in my
pocket. Things are not going quite as well lately as I
could have wished, but it is only a matter of a day or two
anyway; nay, it is only a matter of hours. Is the woman
herepis
go


Locked In!
91
The man behind the lantern sulkily declared that he
knew pothing about the woman, and cared less. He asked
pointedly whether they were to expect Mr. Carrington that
evening, and, if so, whether his visit was likely to be at-
tended with substantial results.
“I tell you I don't know,"Anstruther said angrily. “I
told him to be here at eleven o'clock, but I suppose he has
funked it. But the woman is a very different matter.
Jacob, go into the back room and bring her in here."
« Not I," the man addressed as Jacob replied. “I
don't forget the last time we met. She may be milk and
honey to you, but she is prussic acid as far as I am con-
cerned."
Anstruther stepped to the doorway and whistled softly.
It might have been a call given to a well-broken dog, so
careless and contemptuous was it. Indeed, Anstruther did
not wait to see the result of his summons, but returned to
the room with the easy assurance of a man who knows that
his lightest call will be obeyed.
Almost immediately the two watchers standing on the
landing were conscious of a shadowy form passing close to
them. They had no time to shrink back, they had not
even time for surprise, when a light hand was laid on the
arm of each and an eager voice began to whisper in their
ears.
“Rash to the verge of madness," the melancholy voice
said sadly. “I warned you not to come-I implored you
not to take a hand in this business. I could have settled
it all for you if you had left it all to me; but youth ever
will be served. Won't you go away even now and leave
it all to me?"
There was something so pitifully imploring in the speech
that the listeners thrilled in sympathy. From the first word
they had no difficulty in guessing the identity of the
speaker. It was none other than Serena who was address-
ing them in those despairing accents.
"I am afraid you are too late, Serena," Jack said.
“Besides, we have some one else to consider in the busi-
ness. It is possible that your efforts may be successful as


92
The Yellow Face
far as we are concerned; but we have discovered to-night
that Anstruther is plotting against the happiness of many
people who are as innocent as ourselves. I tell you, we
must see this thing through now. But why stay here, why
linger, when your tardiness is likely to increase our
trouble?"
At this point Anstruther advanced towards the door and
whistled again, this time more sharply. With a sigh of
deep regret Serena walked forward and entered the room.
In the bright light of the apartment her face looked paler
and more dejected than usual. Though Jack had seen for
himself the volcano of passion and emotion of which Serena
was capable when not under the influence of her employer,
he could not fail to notice how tame and frightened she
appeared to be now. It was as if Anstruther possessed
something like a power over her. Her dark eyes seemed
mechanically to follow his every movement; he had only
to raise his hand and her look followed it.
“So you have come at last,” Anstruther said. “How
long have you been in the house ?"
“I came as soon as you told me, master," Serena mur-
mured, like one who talks in her sleep. All will power
seemed to have gone out of her for the moment. "What
would you have of me to-night?"
Anstruther replied harshly that Serena must know per-
pectly well what was required of her. Nevertheless he
proceeded to detail his instructions, which were still un-
finished when another footstep was heard upon the stairs
and a newcomer entered. The two watchers outside were
not in the least surprised at the pale, somewhat conceited
features of the violinist Padini; indeed, they were past all
surprises now. Padini had bowed with an air of exagger-
ated politeness to Serena.
“ Ha, ha, my coy fascinator," he cried, “ so I am not
to be deprived of the pleasure of your company. I am
not likely to soon forget the enchanting evening we spent
together chez Carrington. I am sorry to be late, An-
struther, but the fact is, your English audiences are not so
cold as I had first imagined. Positively they would not


Locked In!
93
let me off with less than four encores. Ma foi, you must
have had the full value of your money in your chamber
music to-night. A rare treat for Miss Helmsley ; doubt-
less she has noticed the marvelous improvement made by
her guardian in his playing of late."
The violinist chuckled as if in the enjoyment of an ex-
quisite joke. Serena flashed him a glance of bitter hatred
and contempt..
“I should like to know the meaning of this,” Rigby
whispered. “I suppose it refers in some way to the mys-
terious music which you told me about last night. Do
you think it possible that Serena could enlighten us on this
point as she appears to know all about it? If not, why
does she look at Padini in that scornful way?"
Any further signs of enjoyment on the part of Padini
were cut short by an impatient oath from Anstruther.
“ That is mere child's play,” he exclaimed. “Very
clever and all that kind of thing, but an intelligent school-
boy might have done as well.”
Jack intimated in a whisper to Rigby that he himself
stood in the position of the said intelligent schoolboy.
He had a pretty shrewd idea how the thing had been
managed, and to what purpose; but there would be time
enough to explain all that presently. What they had to
do now was to stay as long as possible, and gather all
they could from a careful study of the proceedings taking
place in the room. It was Anstruther who first broke the
silence.
“Are we going to stand fooling here all night ?” he
exclaimed angrily. “ Padini, get that exaggerated fur
coat of yours off, and make yourself up to look like an
English gentleman as far as possible. You will find
everything necessary in the room at the back of the
house. The same remark applies to you, Serena. My
word! To think that a woman so pale, so haggard, as
you are now can make up to look like eighteen and possess
the beauty of Diana! What a pity it was you ever left
the stage !"
The woman's face flushed angrily. There was a nerv-


94
The Yellow Face
ous tension about her to-night that Anstruther had never
noticed before. Was she going to be defiant ? he asked.
Did she understand what she was doing when she pro-
posed to measure her strength against his ? But the flame
still raged on Serena's hot cheeks, and her lips were still
hard and mutinous.
« Take care you do not drive me too far," she whis-
pered hoarsely. "A cat is a harmless creature enough,
but I read once of a cat that turned upon a man and
killed him. You dare to taunt me with my past. When
I think of what that past might have been but for you, I
declare that I could find it in my heart to kill you. I am
so weak and timid, you are so strong and brave; and yet
even you must sleep at times, and a man asleep is as
harmless as a babe. A spot of gray powder, a drop of
liquid no larger than a pin's point placed between your
teeth, and the career of Spencer Anstruther is finished.”
The words were uttered with such dramatic force and
intensity that even Anstruther refrained from smiling. It
seemed to the listeners outside that here was a great genius
lost to the stage.
"I should not care to encounter that woman's hostil-
ity," Rigby murmured. “Look at the intense expres.
sion of her face. But, really, I hope she is not going to
defy him to-night. If she does we are likely to have
trouble for our pains.”
But Serena's outbreak of passionate anger was over as
swiftly as an April shower. She looked up in the face of
her master as a dog might do that had been convicted of
theft. Anstruther smiled with the air of a man who
merely tolerates a passing anger of a fellow creature. It
was as if he had caged this woman so that he could watch
her passions and emotions as a naturalist studies the habits
and ways of loathsome insects.
“I suppose you must give vent to your feelings some-
times," he said. “And now that you have had a little
fling we had better get on with our business. You will go
with Padini to-night to "
“ No, no !” Serena cried. "I implore you to spare me


Locked In:
95
that humiliation again. What have I done that I should
have to endure all this—what can be possibly gained by
it?"
For the first time Anstruther displayed real signs of
anger.
* Now, listen to me,” he said. “Once for all, I tell
you not to speak to me like this again. Do you think I
have studied you all these years for nothing? Do you
suppose I do not know how disloyal you are in your heart
towards me? There is one class of woman who has to
be ruled by fear alone, and you are one of them. You
will do to-night what I ask you, not merely to-night, but
by months and years, in and out, it will be for me to order
and you to obey. And, whilst we are on the subject you
are to say nothing further than you have already said to
Mr. Masefield. You understand what I mean?”
It was quite evident that Serena understood the full
significance of Anstruther's speech. Pale as her face had
been before, it turned now to a still more deathly pallor.
She essayed to speak, but her lips refused the office.
“I don't quite follow you," she managed to stammer
out at length. “If you accuse me of disloyalty - "
Anstruther intimated that that was exactly what he did
mean. It was rather an uncomfortable moment for Jack,
listening there. He was beginning to fully realize the
marvelous cunning of the man with whom he had to deal.
He wondered how it was possible for Anstruther to dis-
cover the gist of his conversation with Serena that after-
noon. He was saying something of this in a whisper to
Rigby when Padini returned to the room. The violinist
was dressed now exactly as he had been attired two nights
before when Jack had seen him at Carrington's chambers.
His jaunty air for the moment had vanished; he looked
suspicious and uneasy. Anstruther's keen eye noticed
this as it noticed everything.
“Now, what's the matter?” he asked. “ Have you
seen a ghost or something equally terrible ?"
“No, I haven't," Padini replied sulkily. “But I am
pretty sure there is somebody in the house. I am ready


96
The Yellow Face
to swear that I saw the shadow of a man moving on the
landing outside."
With a contemptuous smile Anstruther walked towards
the door. There was perhaps no immediate danger for
the listeners, seeing that Anstruther evidently attached no
importance to Padini's statement; but it was just as well
to be on the safe side. Rigby slipped quietly into a door-
way leading to a bedroom and dragged Jack in after him.
Then he closed the door very gently and waited for further
developments. He had not long to wait, for almost im-
mediately there was a click of the latch, and Anstruther's
receding footsteps melted into silence.
"Well, that sets your mind at ease," Anstruther was
heard to say. “If there are any birds here, I have them
safely caged."
With a feeling of apprehension, Rigby laid his hand on
the door-knob. His worst fears were absolutely realized.
He and Jack had been locked in the room.


CHAPTER XIII
THE PARABLE
THERE was no help for it; they could only wait to see
what circumstances had in store for them. It would have
been just as well, however, to have known what was in
Anstruther's mind when he locked the door. So far as
the prisoners could judge, Anstruther had spoken with a
kind of jocular contempt, and had apparently acted more
to soothe Padini's nervous fears than as if he had moved
on the spur of his own suspicions. Rigby had not failed
to notice this, and Jack was inclined to agree with him as
they discussed the matter in whispers. At any rate, a
quarter of an hour passed without any signs without.
"Well, my friend," Rigby muttered, “ you always were
fond of adventures, even as a boy, and now you seem likely
to get your fill of them."
"I don't call this an adventure at all," Jack replied ;
"not much chance of action here. The prospect of being
locked up all night in this cell of a place is not at all
alluring. Just try that door again."
But the attempt proved abortive. It was pitch dark there.
a darkness like that of Egypt, which could be felt. The
mere fact of the sense of sight being suspended seemed to
increase the hearing of the prisoners, for they did not fail
to note every word that was passing in that room across the
corridor. It was plainly evident that the business arrange-
ments which had brought those people here to-night were
practically finished, for presently Anstruther could be
heard walking down the stairs, shouting his final instruc-
tions as he went. A moment later the fine slit of light
which gleamed like a thread under the door of the vacant
house died away swiftly, therefore proving to Jack and
Rigby that the house had been plunged into darkness.
97


98
The Yellow Face
It was a proof also that the conspirators had left the
premises.
“I think this is where we come in," Jack muttered ;
“ we'll give them another five minutes or so, and then we
will run the risk of striking a light. I suppose you have
got some matches in your pocket?"
Rigby had purchased an extra-sized box of vestas as he
came along, so that there was no trouble on that score.
The liberal five minutes had expired before the scratching
of a match, and a spurt of blue flame illuminated the
room. It was by no means an inviting apartment, being
absolutely devoid of furniture save for a tattered carpet on
the floor. The carpet had obviously been a good one in its
day, in spite of the dust which lay so thickly upon it; the
decorations of the walls had evidently been an expensive
business. At the same time, it was quite patent that the
room had been used for the storage of valuables, seeing
that the door fitted close and was lined on the inside with
steel. The window, too, was barred heavily, though it
was far enough from the ground.
"Well, we are in a nice mess," Jack muttered. “So
far as I can see, we shall have to wait here till morning
and then summon assistance by means of the window. In
the meantime we can devote our energies to making up
some ingenious story with a view to deceiving the police.
So long as it is daylight, I don't think we have much to
fear from Anstruther and Co. Do you think the light shows
through the window ?"
There appeared to be no fear of that, seeing that the
curtain was a comparatively thick one. Over the mantel-
piece were the pipe and bracket of a solitary gas-jet.
In a fit of idle curiosity Rigby turned on the tap and
applied a match to the burner. Much to his surprise, a
blue fishtail flame spurted out bright and clear.
"Well, these people don't seem to have half done it,"
he exclaimed ; "they've evidently tapped the gas much
in the same way that they tap the electric light, but why
they want both beats me.”
“Doubtless for something like business purposes," Jack


The Parable
99
suggested. “It is pretty evident that these people have a
lot of mechanical contrivances here, therefore something in
the way of heaters would be necessary. My word, how
close this room is !".
Rigby was emphatically of the same opinion. He
turned off the roaring flame of gas and pulled back the
curtain from the window. He successfully fumbled for
the catch, and at length managed to raise the sash. The
cool, sweet night breeze was grateful to a degree after the
stifling atmosphere of the room.
There were no lights to be seen, for the simple reason
that they were at the back of the house, and looking
down into a dreary sort of forecourt formed by the houses
on either side and a big building beyond. As their eyes
grew accustomed to the gloom, it was possible to note the
fact that the forecourt had at one time been carefully cul-
tivated, for a broken fountain could be made out, and
what appeared at one time to have been a well-tended rose
garden.
“ There's somebody down there," Rigby whispered.
“ Unless I am greatly mistaken the said somebody is
smoking a most excellent cigar. Can't you smell it?"
“Of course I can," Jack responded. “These seem to
be rather an aristocratic type of rascal. If you look across
to the far corner, beyond that fountain place, you will see
the tip of a cigar glowing like a star."
It was exactly as Jack had said. They could see the
cigar glowing and fading as the smoker inhaled or exhaled
the fragrant tobacco, and a moment later they saw some-
thing more. Out of the gloom there approached the figure
of a woman, tall, slender, and bareheaded, her dress hidden
by a long black cloak that reached to the ground. She
spoke quickly and hurriedly, so quickly indeed that the
two men at the window found it impossible to follow what
she said. They could see pretty plainly, however, and did
not fail to notice the fact that the strange woman appeared
to be pleading for some favor. She stretched out her long,
bare arms to her companion in an attitude of supplication ;
her long-cloak fell away from her shoulders, disclosing an


100
The Yellow Face
evening dress of some pale, transparent material. There
were diamonds, too, in her fair hair.
“What is the use of wasting my time like this?" the
man with the cigar demanded. “You ought to have been
at your destination long ago."
« But I couldn't go, I really couldn't, until I had seen
you again. Besides, there is no place like this, and no
better spot for an interview that one wants to keep a
profound secret. For instance, it is hardly possible that
any prying eyes are overlooking us. I can't imagine
anybody being hidden in this old house. When An-
struther locked that bedroom door just now, do you
really suppose he imagined there was anybody on the
premises ?"
The smoker responded with a contemptuous grunt; it
was evident that he entertained no suspicions on that
score.
“ Perhaps I am unduly nervous and excited to-night,"
the woman went on. “But I could have almost imagined
that there were spies following Anstruther to-night. If
I were alone and had no more pressing thing to do, I would
go back into the house and unlock that door. Imagine my
feelings if I really did find two spies there."
"What confounded nonsense you are always talking !"
the smoker burst out. “I suppose this comes of writing
poetry. Who on earth do you suppose is in the house ?"
“How can I possibly tell? The police, perhaps, or
perhaps somebody who is interested in Anstruther's
beautiful ward, Claire Helmsley. I am fond of Claire,
and would suffer much so that she should escape injury.
Really, I could make a story out of this, Richard. I
would find Mr. Jack Masefield in that room, together
with his friend Dick Rigby. I would whisper to them
that it would be safer for them to stay where they were
for the present, and that later on I would come back
and release them. Oh, what nonsense I am talking, to
be sure !"
The smoker affirmed this in a manner none too compli-
mentary.


The Parable
101
“ You are without exception the wildest sentimentalist
I ever came across. You are trying my patience a bit too
high. Why don't you go about your business and leave
me to mine?"
The woman laughed softly to herself as if she was half
amused by her own secret thoughts. She did not seem to
notice, or perhaps she wanted to ignore, the brutal out-
spokenness of her companion. For some reason or other
it occurred to the listeners that she was trying to gain time.
At any rate, there was no longer room for doubt that she
was doing her best to warn the listeners.
“Can you make nothing of her features ?” Jack asked
eagerly. “My eyes are pretty keen, as a rule, but I can
discern no more than the shimmering outline of her dress.
If fortune is on our side presently, we must follow her and
ascertain where she lives.”
“ That wouldn't be at all a bad move," Rigby said.
"She may be a sentimentalist, and a poet into the bargain,
but that does not prevent her from being an exceedingly
clever woman. She is deceiving that bullying fellow in a
way that is worthy of the best diplomatist.”
“She is going to speak again,” Jack whispered. “What
did she say? I quite failed to get that last sentence."
Rigby replied that he had failed to catch it, too, for the
words were spoken in low tones which did not carry to the
window above. The man laughed in the same brutal
fashion, and begged the woman begone, as she was only a
hindrance there.
“I am going," she said. " Take care of yourself,
Richard, and don't imagine that Anstruther is likely to be
of much use to you when the time of danger comes. He
has ever been the blighting curse that hangs over us, and
something tells me that he will be your curse as well as
ours.”
The man laughed scornfully. He did not seem to be
afraid.
"Evidently that woman is a very great deal cleverer
than my friend gives her credit for,” said Rigby. “Don't
you see that she was talking to us? Her speech was


102
The Yellow Face
merely a kind of parable. I don't know who she is or
whence she derived an inspiration, but one thing I am ab-
solutely certain about-she knows perfectly well that the
pair of us are locked in this room, and she is equally aware
of the fact of our identity. All we have got to do now is
to smoke a cigarette each and quietly wait till our fair
friend comes and effects our release.”
“ Haven't you any idea who she is ?" Jack asked.
“At any rate, there is nothing common about her. She
speaks like a lady, and is most assuredly dressed like one."
"I should think you are more likely to know that than
I," said Rigby. “Whoever that woman is, or whatever
gang of scoundrels she is mixed up with, it is quite evi-
dent that she knows Miss Helmsley well, and that she is a
great friend of hers. You must know surely pretty well the
full extent of Claire Helmsley's acquaintances. Can't you
recognize the voice? Does not the outline of her figure
give you something to go on?"
“I am afraid you have me there," Jack said. “You
see, Anstruther is an exceedingly popular man, he goes a
great deal into society, and naturally Claire generally ac-
companies him. She could not have less than a hundred
acquaintances she has made in this way.”
* Then you can't help me out in this way?" Rigby
asked.
Jack was emphatically of the opinion that he could not.
He ran his mind over a score or two of Claire's most
cherished acquaintances. But not one of them tallied in
the least degree with the lady down below. Besides, the
darkness rendered an actual recognition almost impossible.
All the friends had to do now was to possess their souls
in patience and await the time when their mysterious friend
should come to their assistance. That she would come
they felt absolutely certain. She might have been the
wild, sentimental creature which the man with the cigar
had called her; but, at the same time, she had both cool-
ness and courage, or she would not have hit upon the in-
genious method of speaking indirectly to them as she had
done.


The Parable
103
“Unless I am greatly mistaken,” Rigby said thought-
fully, “ we are going to make a real useful friend here.
What is that I see down below ? Surely there is something
like a carriage driven into the yard."
Surely enough, it was a vehicle of some kind, painted
black, and with not too much glittering varnish about it.
So far as could be seen in the gloom, the conveyance in
question was a brougham of some kind. It came into the
yard with a strange suggestion of ghostliness about it, for
the tires were thickly coated with rubber; the horse itself
appeared to be similarly shod.
“I fancy we have seen something like that before," Jack
suggested drily.
“Right you are," Rigby responded. “Of course, one
can't be quite absolutely sure, but that looks very like the
vehicle used by those people the other night. You know
what I mean—the brougham I saw used by the deaf mute
and her companions the night we ran against one another
at Carrington's.”
“Right beyond the shadow of a doubt," Jack said.
" Who is this mystic conveyance for, I wonder--the man
or the woman?”
Evidently it was for the woman, for she stood with her
long wrap fastened closely about her whilst the man with
the cigar opened the door. The horse was turned round,
and vanished as it had come, without the slightest noise ;
indeed, the whole thing might have been a figment of the
imagination.
"I hope that does not mean that our last chance has
gone,” Rigby suggested. “But we must have faith in our
fair friend. One thing is pretty certain—if she means to
come to our assistance she is not going very far away."


CHAPTER XIV
NOSTALGO AGAIN
THERE was silence for some time between the friends.
They had speculated as far as possible on the chances of
the future, and now there was no more to be said. At the
same time, the situation was not devoid of elements of in-
terest, seeing that the man with the cigar had not as yet
departed. Evidently he was waiting for somebody, for he
lighted a fresh cigar from the stump of his old one, and sat
down on the edge of the fountain with the air of a man
who knows how to possess his soul in patience. He sat
thus for some time; then he stood up at length with an air
of strained attention and gave a grunt of relief. Out of
the shadows there emerged another man, muffled to the
eyes and wearing a big slouch hat upon his head.
“So you have come at last," the man with the cigar
muttered. “I thought you were going to keep me here
all night.”
" It is all very well for you," the newcomer said.
“ You can walk about the world with your head held up;
you have no occasion to hide yourself from the light of
day. If only this business was done and over, you would
never find me in one of Anstruther's schemes again."
There was something exceedingly striking in the voice
of the speaker; it was by no means an unmusical voice;
the enunciation was clear and defined. But there was a
peculiar rasping ring in it, a jarring, metallic discord as if
some one had struck two plates of steel together. It was a
commanding voice, too, and the man with the cigar seemed
to feel it.
“I suppose you know your own business best,” he mut-
tered in a tone which was plainly intended to be that of an
apology. “Funny thing, isn't it, that you and I should
104


Nostalgo Again
105
be conspiring here, within a pistol shot of Shannon Street
police station? Those chaps yonder are still scratching
their heads over the disappearance of the man they call
Nostalgo."
The other man laughed; his voice rang as an echo rings
in a cave. He laughed again a little more gently.
" Yes,” he said, “ we could throw a very blinding light
on that mystery. Have they offered any reward for the
discovery of the body?".
“Oh, dear, yes," the other man chuckled. “Two
hundred pounds and a free pardon to any accomplice not
actually connected with the outrage. Wouldn't it be a
fine thing to earn that reward ?".
“I'll think it over and see if we can't manage it," said
the newcomer. “Fancy hoodwinking the police in that
way! All the same, I don't quite like this reward
business ; it's just the thing to appeal to that scoundrel
Redgrave. Anstruther never made a greater mistake
than when he took Redgrave into his confidence. That
fellow would do anything for a few hundred pounds."
“Well, you will have an opportunity of sounding him
presently. He is coming to see you about those West
African bonds. As for myself, I have business of greatest
importance in the East-End. I only stayed here till you
came because Anstruther said that it was absolutely im-
perative for you to have these papers to-night."
So saying, the speaker took a small packet from his
pocket and handed it over to his companion. He turned
away, and a moment later had vanished into the night.
The sole remaining man appeared to be restless and ill
at ease. As he paced up and down the ragged and de-
serted forecourt, the two friends, cautiously peeping
through the up-stairs window, could see that he was lame
and that one shoulder was higher than the other. He
was muttering to himself, too, in some foreign language
that conveyed nothing to the listeners.
He came to a pause presently, and, fumbling in his long
coat, produced a cigarette case and a box of matches.
“I wonder if I really dare,” he muttered, this time


106
The Yellow Face
speaking in English slightly flavored with a foreign
accent. “Surely no one can see me ; surely I shall be
safe in this well of a place. If only I could manage
without matches."
But there has been no way yet invented of lighting
tobacco without matches. As the match flared out the
stranger's face was picked out clean and clear against the
velvet background of the night. As if in full enjoyment
of his tobacco, the man threw his head back and filled
his lungs with the fragrant smoke. He had not yet
dropped the match, so that its rays caught full the up-
turned face. So clearly did the face stand out that the
whole action might have been conceived with the idea of
giving the watchers a perfect view of it.
“ What do you make of that?" Tack whispered ex-
citedly. “Don't ask me to say, because I know the man
as well as I know my own father. The point is, do you
know him?"
“I should say that everybody in London does," Rigby
responded, “ seeing that the face has been glaring down
on London for the past two months. Yonder man is
Nostalgo and none other."
“No mistake about that,” Jack said. “In that strange,
weird light, what an awful face it is ! And yet there is
something about it, too, some half-pathetic suggestion
that almost removes one's feelings of repulsion."
“I have noticed that, too,” Rigby said. “But why
did you not tell me that our mysterious friend was
practically a hunchback ?"
" But he wasn't,” Jack protested. “I am absolutely
certain that the man I found apparently dead close to
Panton Square three nights ago was as straight and well
set up as you or I. Why, I helped to put him in the
ambulance; I saw his body laid out in the mortuary at
Shannon Street police station. I am prepared to swear
that that man was without a physical blemish, and I am
quite sure that Inspector Bates will bear me out in this.
And yet that man down there smoking his cigarette is as
misshapen as Richard III.”


108
The Yellow Face
The newcomer protested whiningly that not one drop
of ardent liquor had passed his lips that day.
“ You miserable, prevaricating hound !” Nostalgo
cried. “Go back to Anstruther, and say that I will have
none of you. Tell your master that my time is short, and
that an hour from now will make all the difference. He
knows that I dare not stay; he knows what hideous
disaster even the slightest delay may produce, and yet he
sends you of all men to help me in this crisis."
“But Anstruther cannot possibly do anything else,"
Redgrave whined. “It is absolutely imperative that he
should be at Carrington's by midnight. Carrington is
not to be trusted; he wants watching as carefully as a cat
watches a mouse. You will have to put up with me, sir."
Nostalgo paced up and down the dreary forecourt with
the air of a man who is deep in thought. His limp and
straggling gait was by no means lost upon the watchers
overhead. He came to a halt at length and sat on the
edge of the broken fountain, his head upon his hands,
deeply immersed in thought. He might have been a
graven statue, so rigid and still was his figure.
The effect of this upon the cowering, watching Redgrave
was peculiar. There was something of the cat in his own
movements as he came inch by inch nearer to Nostalgo.
It was as if a child was timidly making overtures to a
dog of uncertain temper. Near and nearer Redgrave
came, till he was standing directly over the bent figure
of his companion. He might have been miles away for
all the heed that Nostalgo gave him.
Then quick as thought, and with a snarling, savage
cry that echoed strangely between the four walls of the
forecourt, Redgrave fell furiously and with headlong
impetuosity upon the doubled-up figure of his prey.
“I have got you now, you misshapen devil !" "he
screamed. “You are going to be worth at least two
hundred pounds to me to-night."
Utterly taken by surprise, Nostalgo collapsed under the
sudden and furious assault. Something gleamed and
flashed in the uncertain light, and the horrified onlookers


Nostalgo Again
109
from the window above saw that Redgrave had a knife
in his hand.
“You poisonous scoundrel !” Rigby yelled. “Drop
it, I say_drop it, or it will be the worse for you."
But Rigby might have been speaking to the wind. He
yelled again and again, yet the two men below, locked in
a deadly embrace, did not appear to heed ; indeed, it was
more than probable that they could hear nothing at all.
More by great good fortune than anything else, Nostalgo
had managed to grip the hand that held the knife and
was holding it in a tenacious clutch. Over and over the
pair rolled, like two hungry dogs fighting for a bone, their
clothes torn and mud-stained, their features grimed almost
beyond recognition. It was a grim and gruesome sight to
the two eager watchers. A sense of helplessness, a wild
desire to do something was upon them; but they might
just as well have been fettered prisoners for all the use
they were.
“If only we could open this door," Rigby sighed pas-
sionately. “If only that mysterious lady could come to
our assistance."
It was like a prayer that was answered. There was a
click, a sudden wide swinging open of the door, and the
lady in evening dress came headlong into the room.
"Quickly, quickly!" she panted. “Oh, it does not
matter who I am or where I came from ! If you would
not have the destruction of a man's soul on your con-
science, come with me at once."


CHAPTER XV
LADY BARMOUTH
Quick as the whole thing had been, the action on the
part of the fair stranger had not taken Rigby by surprise.
He had half expected some development of this kind; he
was ready for the dramatic moment, and took full ad-
vantage of it. Almost before the lady was in the room he
had applied a match to the gas burner, and turned it full
on. There was a quick, flashing vision of some one mag-
nificently attired, for the white diaphanous drapery and
the gleaming diamonds showed from where her wrap had
parted at the neck. Perhaps she dimly comprehended the
significance of Rigby's maneuvre, for she turned some-
what scornfully from the hissing gas jet.
: "Oh, there is no time for that !” she cried. “It
can matter little or nothing who I am, at any rate for the
present. Did you follow me just now? I hope you un-
derstood that I was speaking to you?"
“We gathered that, madam," Rigby said politely;
“ but really we are wasting time in idle compliments."
The stranger's face fairly beamed with gratitude. She
turned and pointed in the direction of the door. There
was no need whatever for further words; the friends knew
exactly what she wanted.
The gesture was eloquent enough. The lady who had
so strangely and unexpectedly come to the assistance of
the friends intimated to them as plainly as words could
speak that there was no time to be lost, and that the sooner
they were off the premises the better. Jack did not wish
to delay; he had no desire to be caught like a rat in a
trap, nor for a moment did he forget the fact that this
woman who spoke in parables had risked much to come to
their assistance. On the other hand, Rigby, being cooler
ΙΙο


Lady Barmouth
111
and more collected than his friend, and, like a journalist,
more prone to go into details, was disposed to linger for
explanations. His hesitation was by no means lost on the
fair stranger. Once more she pointed to the door, this
time with an imperious gesture.
"Oh! why do you hesitate ?" she murmured. "Why
do you stand like a schoolboy staring into a shop window ?
I know you are here for some desperate purpose; I can
more than guess the reason for your visit. You are men
of intellect and understanding, therefore you must clearly
see the danger of even an instant's delay.”
The lady turned away as if she had finished. Jack
might have found it in his heart to be a little ashamed of
Rigby, but, after all, the temptation to give way to curi-
osity was absolutely overwhelming. Jack pulled himself
together at length, and dragged angrily at Rigby's arm.
He felt just a little inclined to flush under the contemptu-
ous gaze of their beautiful rescuer.
"Oh, do come along," he said. “My dear Dick, you
are positively guilty of bad taste in this matter."
“Really, I beg your pardon," Rigby said humbly.
“But you can quite understand my feelings. Good-night,
madam."
Despite the wild hurry-scurry and the excitement of the
moment, Jack had not failed to notice the exquisite beauty
of the strange woman's face. She was quite young, about
twenty-five or thereabouts, and yet her fair face, without a
line or wrinkle in it had a suggestion of the Madonna, as
of one who had suffered much. She flew down the
stairs, heedless of the darkness, and into the forecourt be-
yond.
“Pray to heaven we are not too late," she said. “It
seemed to me just now that I was barely in time, but
surely "
The woman stopped, and passed her hand across her
face just as one does who wakes from an evil dream.
And in sooth she had cause enough for her astonishment.
Where two bodies had been locked in a death struggle a
minute before, only one remained now. The other had


112
The Yellow Face
vanished utterly. And it needed only a cursory glance to
see that the form lying there was not the misshapen out-
line of Nostalgo.
" This is amazing," the fair stranger said, as she bent
over the body of the unconscious man. She did not ap-
pear to be the least afraid now; all her coolness had come
back to her ; she suggested a trained nurse on the battle-
field. “Surely my eyes did not deceive me, surely I saw
two men in a death struggle there as I came into the court-
yard ?"
“ There is not the slightest doubt about that," Jack
murmured. “Why, we were actually watching the fight
at the very moment you opened the door. Do you know
who this fellow is ?".
The lady shook her head, but Jack noticed that she did
not repudiate all knowledge of the stricken man.
"I can tell you if you want to know," she said, “but
we can discuss that point later on. What we want to
know now is how far this man has suffered from his in-
juries."
Heedless of the dust and dirt, heedless of her re-
splendent attire, the lady had thrown herself on her knees
beside the prostrate body. She laid her hand upon his
heart, and bent her head down listening intently.
" At all events he is not dead," she said, “ neither can
I see any sign of a wound. He has evidently been
stunned by some tremendous blow. Ah! see, he stirs."
The injured man opened his eyes in a feeble, spasmodic
kind of way, and gazed languidly about him. Rigby,
fully alive to the possibilities of the situation, grasped Jack
by the arm.
“My dear fellow," he exclaimed, “you say you know
that man, and naturally he knows you. Do you think it
wise to remain in sight, and thus give him a chance to
recognize you ?"
Redgrave lay as if lost to all consciousness once more.
Despite her dreamy, Madonna-like face, the strange lady
was not blind to the danger of the situation.
.“I think you are quite right,” she whispered hurriedly.


Lady Barmouth
113
“ It would never do for this man to recognize you. I feel
sure that heaven has sent you both to be my friends in
the hour of my deepest despair. Who and what I am can
be explained presently. But that man is coming to very
fast, and it were far better if he did not see you."
Rigby nodded his emphatic approval. Together with
Jack he withdrew behind the shelter of a clump of bushes
where it was possible to hear everything without being
seen. Meanwhile Redgrave had raised himself to a sitting
position, and, with his back to the fountain, was stupidly
contemplating the fair figure before him.
"I suppose you can understand what is said to you?"
the lady asked. “For instance, you can tell me what
brings you here to-night?”
"I dare say I could if I liked," Redgrave groaned, “but
I am not going to do anything of the kind. This comes
of having women mixed up in a business like ours.”
6 Woman or not, that has nothing to do with your mur-
derous assault on a harmless stranger just now. It is ab-
surd for you to deny any knowledge of me. You have
heard of Lady Barmouth before."
Behind the shelter of the bushes Jack nipped Rigby's
arm significantly. He had learned something now.
« Did you hear that?” he whispered. "Of course you
have heard of Lady Barmouth often enough. I have never
met her myself, but I have often heard Claire speak about
her. A beautiful South American girl, I believe, married
to a sulky brute who never goes outside his house from
one year's end to another. I don't know whether he
drinks or what it is, but I fear that Lady Barmouth has a
very bad time of it.”
Jack would have probably volunteered more information
on this point, only the cross-examination of Redgrave had
begun again, and he did not wish to miss a word that he
said.
“ It is idle to prevaricate with me," Lady Barmouth
was saying. “I will ask you nothing as to your late en-
counter, because it is evident that you had greatly the
worst of it, and that your would-be victim has escaped.


114
The Yellow Face
But what is more to the point, I want to know what has
become of my brother?”
“ Your brother !" Redgrave stammered, as if utterly
taken aback by the suddenness of the question. “1-I
don't know in the least what you mean."
“Oh, what is the use of wasting your time and mine
like this?" Lady Barmouth cried. “My brother came
here by special appointment to meet Mr. Spencer An-
struther, and I came on my own self-initiative to see what
my brother was doing."
Here was fresh information for Jack and his companion.
It mattered little for the present who Lady Barmouth's
brother was, but evidently she had greatly mistrusted him;
hence her appearance in the courtyard to-night. It was,
therefore, by no means difficult for the friends to guess
that the aforesaid brother had been the man who had so
lately accused Lady Barmouth of being a sentimental fool.
The night's work was being by no means wasted.
“I know nothing whatever about your brother," Red-
grave said sulkily, “and I know nothing about Anstruther
either. The man who was here just now—the man who
made that murderous attack on me, I mean—was a perfect
stranger. But this is no place for a lady like you; you
had better go home, and keep out of this sort of scrape for
the future."
So saying, Redgrave scrambled painfully to his feet,
and lurched off in the direction of the doorway leading to
the lane beyond. It was only when they were satisfied
that he had absolutely departed, that Rigby and Mase-
field emerged from their hiding place and joined Lady
Barmouth. There was a sad, wistful expression on her
face.
“ You heard all that,” she said. “Mind you, I am as-
suming that you are no parties to the vile conspiracy of
which Anstruther is the head. I should like to have
your assurance on that point before I proceed any fur-
ther,"
“ If there is one man in the world whom we desire to
expose and render harmless for the future, it is Spencer


Lady Barmouth
115
Anstruther," Jack said vehemently. “But how did you
know we were here at all ?"
" Because I happened to be in the house when you
came," Lady Barmouth explained. “I caught sight of
your faces as you moved in front of the light proceeding
from that room up-stairs, and I divined by a sort of instinct
that you did not belong to Anstruther's gang. Then it
came to me that I had seen one of you gentlemen before
in the company of Miss Helmsley. I think, sir, I may be
pardoned if I assume that Miss Helmsley is something
more than a friend of yours."
“To be perfectly candid with you, we are engaged to
be married, only it is a profound secret at present," Jack
explained. “After telling you so much, I think you might
be equally candid with us."
"Indeed I will !” Lady Barmouth exclaimed. “Any
one to whom Claire Helmsley has given her heart must be
a good and true man. As I told you just now, I saw you
on the stairs ; I also heard what that strange man said
about there being spies in the house; I saw you creep into
the room, and I saw Anstruther lock the door upon you.
The rest you know for yourselves."
“ But that does not explain why you are here,” Rigby
ventured to suggest.
“Why I am here to-night I cannot even tell you," Lady
Barmouth said, in low, nervous tones. "The secret is
not mine; it concerns one I love more than anybody else
in the world. One thing I can tell you : Claire Helmsley
is in great danger so long as she remains where she is liv-
ing now. You nust get her away, Mr. Masefield; you
must get her away at any cost.”.
Jack nodded gravely; he had not been blind to this
danger for some time. What he wanted to know now was
if Lady Barmouth had any idea of the identity of the man
who had successfully got the better of Redgrave. But on
that head Lady Barmouth could say nothing; she had re-
turned for the express purpose of relieving Masefield and
Rigby from their awkward situation, and in so doing she
had come quite unexpectedly upon the combatants. Even


116
The Yellow Face
in the dim light she had seen that a murderous struggle
was taking place, and this being so, had hastened head-
long up-stairs with a view to securing assistance. More
than this she could not possibly say.
"What we want to do,” Rigby suggested, “is to go
away quietly somewhere, and discuss this matter thor-
oughly. I need not point out to your ladyship the mani-
fest danger of staying here. Anstruther or any of his tribe
may be back at any time, and then we shall be caught like
rats in a trap."
" That matter is easily settled," Lady Barmouth replied.
“Could you come home with me? It is by no means late
yet, and you would not be long in getting rid of those dis-
guises of yours. They are excellent disguises, but they
did not prevent me recognizing you, Mr. Masefield.”
"There is no deceiving a clever woman,” Jack smiled.
“I should like nothing better than a chance to discuss this
matter at length—but Lord Barmouth? Would he not
think it somewhat singular that two strangers like our-
selves — "
“ Nothing of the sort !" Lady Barmouth cried eagerly.
“My husband never goes outside the house; he is suffer-
ing from a trouble so terrible that I try not to think of it
if I can. I may, however, tell you that his trouble is in-
timately connected with the black business that brings us
here to-night. It may seem to you that I am a mere
frivolous society butterfly. Ah, if you only knew !"
The trio had worked their way into the street by this
time. A private hansom stood a little way down the road.
Lady Barmouth smiled a little as she contemplated her two
companions.
"I am afraid we should be a suspicious-looking party
in the eye of a passing policeman,” she said. "No, I
think it would be just as well if I walked to my hansom
alone. Then you can go back to your rooms and attire
yourselves as English gentlemen should be attired at this
time of the evening. Then you can come to my house; I
will tell the servants I am expecting two friends to supper.
You know the address."


Lady Barmouth
117
Jack intimated that he knew the address perfectly well.
The suggestion was by no means a bad one; there could
be no possible suspicion aroused by the fact that Lady
Barmouth was having two friends to share her late meal.
The clocks were striking twelve as Jack and his companion
walked up the steps of the big house in Belgrave Square.


CHAPTER XVI
THE BOSOM OF HER FAMILY
A RESPLENDENT footman took the names of the callers,
and preceded them to the drawing-room. It was no un-
common thing for Lady Barmouth to invite a score or so
of friends to supper after a reception or theatre. The foot-
man intimated that his mistress was alone now, and that
she was at present in the hands of her maid ; therefore the
callers had ample time to study the surroundings of so
mysterious a person as Lord Barmouth.
That remarkable man, as everybody knew, had only
been married a little over two years. Two years ago he
himself had been a more or less popular figure in society.
In the first place he was exceedingly rich, by no means ill
looking, in fact he was a remarkably fine type of an all-
round athlete. He was a triple blue at Oxford, a wonder-
fully keen shot, and a dashing polo player. At his house
in the Shires his hunters were noted, as likewise were his
coverts. Two years ago any man would have esteemed it
a privilege to call himself Lord Barmouth's friend, and be
free of his guns and his horses.
But now all this was changed. Barmouth had gone
away to South America with a view of something new in
the way of sport. Naturally his movements were followed
carefully by the society papers. They chronicled all his
doings faithfully, and presently Belgravia was officially in-
formed of the fact that Barmouth was in Mexico, where he
had become engaged to be married to the daughter of a
settler there-an Englishman of good family who had
taken unto himself a Mexican wife. Three months later
the announcement of Barmouth's marriage was in the
Times. It was understood that he was not coming home
quite yet; indeed, something like two years elapsed before
118


The Bosom of Her Family 119
the big house in Belgrave Square was set in order for the
owner and his bride.
The strange whisperings and muttered scandal began at
once. But on one point society was in perfect accord
whatever trouble hung over the household, it could not
possibly be a fault of Lady Barmouth's. The woman was
a lady to her finger-tips ; she took her part naturally and
easily in society; she fell into her place like one to the
manner born. As everybody expected, there was nothing
lacking in the lavish hospitality which had always been a
tradition of the Barmouths. Men went down to their
country houses in the winter to shoot and hunt, men and
women came to Belgrave Square to lunch and dance and
dinner—there was no more popular figure in society than
Lady Barmouth.
And there it seemed to end. From the day of his
arrival in England until the present moment not a soul
had looked upon Lord Barmouth with the exception of his
wife and his faithful valet. What was the source of the
trouble nobody knew, and nobody guessed. It was in
vain to try to bribe the servants, for they were just as much
in the dark as anybody else. It was perhaps a mistake to
say that nobody had ever seen Lord Barmouth, for oc-
casionally he entered the dining or drawing-rooms when
some very old friends were there, but previous to his entry
the lights were always turned out. Whether this was due
to some strange form of disease, or perhaps some phase of
madness, was a point never explained. Lady Barmouth,
beyond a cold statement that her husband was suffering
from a peculiar malady, said nothing, and, indeed, it would
have been in very bad taste to have asked. It had only
been a nine days' wonder after all, and it mattered little
to society in general so long as the hospitality of the house
of Barmouth did not suffer.
It was under the roof of a man like this that Rigby and
Tack found themselves as a fitting end to a night of amaz-
ing adventure. There was nothing to denote a discordant
spirit in the house. Here was the magnificent suite of
drawing-rooms brilliantly lighted and luxurious to a


120
The Yellow Face
degree, on the walls of which were pictures of price.
There was about the house the decorous, smooth, velvety
silence which seems to be tradition in all well-ordered
establishments. It seemed almost impossible to believe
that the sinister wing of tragedy should hang over a home
like this. A few minutes later Lady Barmouth came into
the room.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, “but I
have been having a little chat with my husband. As I
have already intimated to you, his misfortunes are not
altogether unconnected with this Anstruther business. My
dear husband has suffered cruelly at the hands of certain
people; indeed, so cruelly has he suffered that he seems to
have lost all life and hope altogether. Ah, if you had
only seen him as I saw him for the first time two years ago !
There is one thing, however, I will ask you to do-pray do
not say a word to him as to the circumstances in which we
met to-night."
" Then we are to have the pleasure of seeing Lord
Barmouth," Jack exclaimed. “I quite understood that
he -- "
“ This is an exceptional case altogether. In the strict
sense of the word you will not see my husband, but he
desires the privilege of a few words with you. Now, let
us go into the dining-room and talk this matter over.
There will be no servants present-it is the one meal of
the day which I prefer to partake of without the presence
of one's domestics."
The dining-room was not the usual apartment devoted
to state feasts, but a small room on the first floor, cozily
and comfortably furnished, and more with an eye to con-
fidences than anything else. The servants were absent as
Lady Barmouth had intimated, so that it was possible to
discuss the events of the evening without the chance of
being overheard.
“ Now tell me candidly," Lady Barmouth said at
length, “have you any ideas to offer as to that mysterious
disappearance from Shannon Street police station? I am ·
asking you this, Mr. Masefield, because it was you who


The Bosom of Her Family
121
actually found the body of the man who most people speak
of as Nostalgo. Really, now, was that unfortunate man
so very like the wonderful poster of which London has had
to say so much of late ?"
" The likeness was amazing," Jack explained. “It
quite frightened me. Talking about the poster in ques-
tion, there is another likeness that I have not failed to
note. Of course, if you put the man I mean and the
poster side by side, nobody could possibly see the re-
semblance. But in moments of anger, there is a strong
likeness between the poster and Spencer Anstruther.
Don't laugh at me, Lady Barmouth; I assure you it is ab-
solutely true."
But Lady Barmouth was by no means in the way of
laughing at Masefield. Her pale face took on a still more
creamy pallor, the pupils of her dark eyes were strangely
dilated.
“ That is a most strange and wonderful thing," she
said, as if speaking to herself. “Mr. Masefield, it is most
fortunate that we met to-night. You have just told me
something which will prove of the utmost value later on.
We will not discuss that now, there is no time. But there
is one thing that I am going to ask you to do for me ;
I want you to influence Claire Helmsley in my favor. Í
have taken a great fancy to her; indeed, I like her far
more than any girl in London. This is all the stranger
because I believe I am in a position to do her a great
service. I know that I am in a position to do her one.
But one stipulation I make, and that is—she must be told
everything."
Jack hesitated. It would be indeed a dangerous thing
to acquaint Claire with all that had happened so long as
she was under the same roof as Spencer Anstruther. She
was not accustomed to restrain her feelings and emotions,
and with his swift, subtle instincts, Anstruther would find
out that there was something wrong immediately. Jack
pointed this out to Lady Barmouth at some length.
"I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. “Claire is a
clever girl, she is in splendid health, and not the least


122
The Yellow Face
likely to fear Anstruther or anybody else. It is, of course,
not nice to have to play a part, but think of the informa-
tion that Claire could glean for us so long as Anstruther
regards her as little more than a child and behaves to her
accordingly."
“ Believe me, I am only too anxious to get at the bottom
of this dreadful business," Jack said earnestly, “ and there
is nobody more anxious than I am to get Claire outside the
sphere of Anstruther's influence altogether. Still, I am
quite willing to try. I will see Claire to-morrow, and tell
her everything."
Lady Barmouth's face beamed with a delight that was
almost childish. She looked and acted like one who had
had a great weight taken off her mind. That Jack had
come to a wise decision she felt certain. She was saying
so, speaking very briskly and freely, when the lights of the
room were extinguished by some invisible agency, and the
apartment left in utter darkness save for the wood-fire
which smouldered on the hearth.
"I do hope you have all finished," Lady Barmouth
cried. “It is quite evident that my husband thinks so, or
the lights would not have been extinguished by turning off
the switch outside the door."
Both Jack and Rigby muttered something to the effect
that they had finished. Lady Barmouth produced a tiny
silver spirit lamp from the sideboard, the blue flame of
which was little larger than a pin's point, sufficient to light
a cigarette, but insufficient to illuminate a scrap of paper a
foot away. In silence the cigarettes were handed round,
and the well-trained voiceof a servant was heard announcing
Lord Barmouth. A closely muffled figure crept into the
room, and proceeded to bury itself in a big armchair by
the side of the wood-fire.
“ These are my friends, Mr. Rigby and Mr. Masefield,"
Lady Barmouth said cheerfully. “I have told them that
you would like to have a few words with them, George.
You will find these gentlemen willing to speak quite
freely."
“That is indeed good of you." The deep, clear ring-


CHAPTER XVII
WHICH MAN WAS IT?
Rigby's astonishment was frank and undisguised. It
was quite evident that he had noticed nothing suspicious
about the look or attitude of Lord Barmouth ; indeed, he
had been on the far side of the table when the master of
the house had entered the room. But he was not alto-
gether prepared to accept Jack's statement unless he could
verify it by something more than a mere expression of
opinion.
" Are you quite sure of that?" he asked. “Mind you,
this is an exceedingly important matter, and if what you
say is true, we have opened up a quite fresh development
of the mystery."
“I am absolutely certain of it," Jack declared. “I
had not the least idea of anything of the kind till we were
both on our feet ready to go. It was at this point, you
will remember, that Lord Barmouth displayed some feeling
and accidentally touched the logs of wood on the fire with
his foot. In the spurt of flame which followed, I had a
perfect view of his face.”
“Would you mind describing what you saw ?" Rigby
asked.
“ You have only to look at the nearest poster displaying
the features of Nostalgo, and your question is answered.
It was only a flash, but the face was impressed upon my
mind in the most vivid fashion. There was the same
sinister expression of face, the same repulsive twist of the
mouth, the same inexpressible gleam of the eyes. You
know what I mean : the whole thing was exactly as we
see it, on half the hoardings in London. Of course it is
the face of a leering Mephistopheles. And yet I don't
know; it occurred to me that there was something very
pathetic and at the same time kindly about Barmouth's
124


Which Man Was It?
125
aspect. You know what I mean : imagine a kind-hearted,
good-natured actor made up as repulsively as possible,
and yet with the suggestion of his natural disposition
behind him.''
" Yes, I fancy I understand what you mean," Rigby
replied thoughtfully. “But you don't suggest that the
man really was made up, do you?".
Jack replied that he did and he didn't. There was
something unreal about Barmouth, and yet it was im-
possible to believe that that sinister face was anything
except just as nature made it. The friends walked along
side by side in silence before another idea occurred to
Rigby.
* It seems to me,” he said, “ that we must believe in the
existence of two Nostalgos. The one you found near
Panton Square was dead ; in fact, the police sergeant testi-
fied to the fact. How or by what means that man's body
was so mysteriously spirited away we are not very likely
to find out. At any rate it is quite fair to assume that
his friends had some desperate reason for spiriting the
body away. Therefore, we may logically infer that Lord
Barmouth cannot possibly be the same man you saw in
Panton Square."
“That is a very fair assumption," Jack admitted.
“But to carry your argument a bit further, we are bound
to assume that there are no less than three Nostalgos.
The suggestion is almost farcical, but there it is."
" What do you mean by three?” Rigby asked.
- Well, don't forget the man we saw in the forecourt
of the house in Montrose Place. No mistake about his
being a Nostalgo."
" Quite so," Rigby admitted. “I am with you there.
But how do we know for certain that Nostalgo No. 2, so to
speak, and Lord Barmouth are not the same man? Did
you notice anything strange about the appearance of Bar-
mouth as he came into the room to-night-that he was
humpbacked or misshapen in any way?"
Jack was bound to admit that he had not noticed any-
thing of the kind.


126
The Yellow Face
“I don't think we shall ever do much good unless we go
direct to the fountain head," Jack said thoughtfully.
“ Mexico," Rigby cried. “I see exactly what you
mean.”
“Mexico it is. We know perfectly well that when Bar-
mouth went off to Mexico two years ago on a sporting ex-
pedition he was a normal man like you and me. If he had
been so terribly disfigured by birth or accident as he ap-
peared to-night we should have known it. A man in his
position with an infirmity like that cannot hide it from the
light of day. To carry the thing to a logical conclusion,
if Barmouth had been like that when he went away, why
should he be so dreadfully troubled about it now?".
Rigby applauded this sound reasoning. He could see
that Jack had something on his mind, and urged him to
proceed.
"I don't quite know what to make of it,” Jack said.
“ As I observed just now, we seem to be face to face with
the fact that there are two or three Nostalgos, and for all
we know to the contrary, there may be a score more knock-
ing about London. It has occurred to me more than once
that these men must belong to some secret society."
Rigby was inclined to laugh at the idea. On being
asked by Jack to explain what he saw that was fatal to the
theory, he replied logically enough that such a thing was
out of the question.
“My dear fellow, just think what you are saying," he
exclaimed. “So far as my reading teaches me, the great
object of a secret society is to be secret. Besides, you
don't suggest for a moment that these men belong to any
particular tribe, especially as we know perfectly well that
Lord Barmouth, who is an Englishman, belongs to them.
Nor would you want me to believe that these men are in
the habit of having their faces operated upon by some in-
genious doctor, so that they are in the position to recog-
nize one another when they meet."
Jack was bound to admit that Rigby had the facts en-
tirely upon his side. It seemed absolutely childish to be-
lieve that sane men would do this kind of thing, especially


Which Man Was It?
127
when it was very evident that these various Nostalgos were
only two anxious to hide themselves from the light of day.
Rigby did not pursue his advantage; he was quite content
to judge that his argument had prevailed from the expres-
sion of Jack's face.
“But we need not carry that argument any further," he
said. “I judge from your expression that you have
another theory."
"I was just coming to that," Jack said. “We will
assume for the sake of argument that when Barmouth went
to Mexico he was without blemish of mind or body. That
being so, he must have met with some terrible adventure
which has resulted in this terrible disfigurement. Mind
you, it is a disfigurement; it certainly is not natural; for
instance, no three men could possibly have faces like that
as the result of a freak of Nature. What I am trying to
think is this: Barmouth got mixed up in some hideous
secret society, and that he either carries on his face the
badge of the tribe, or he has been purposely disfigured out
of revenge for some dereliction of duty. However, this is
only speculation after all, and we can do nothing till we
have some fresh facts before us."
"I am inclined to think very highly of your theory all
the same,” Rigby said. “There is no questioning the
fact that we have to look towards Mexico for an elucidation
of the mystery. By Jove, I have nearly forgotten some-
thing. Wouldn't it be a good thing to find out if An-
struther had ever been to Mexico ?”
“Of course it would,” Jack exclaimed. “I'll see to
that. I will go to Anstruther's to-morrow night and learn
there. It will be hard indeed if I am unable to answer
your question next time we meet."
It was fairly late the following afternoon before Jack
found himself in Panton Square again. He had practically
promised Lady Barmouth to tell Claire everything, but a
natural reflection had shown him that this was not quite
prudent. Not that he objected to take Claire into his con-
fidence, but what he greatly feared was the girl's inability
to control her feelings in the presence of Anstruther after


128
The Yellow Face
she had learned everything. But, as Jack looked into the
face of his betrothed, his doubts gradually vanished. It
was a courageous as well as a beautiful face, and it occurred
to Jack that Lady Barmouth had not done badly when she
had selected Claire to be her confidante in this painful
matter. Claire's dark eyes were turned interrogatively
upon her lover. Perhaps he was looking a little more
serious than usual; at any rate his grave face told her that
he came with news of importance.
“My dear boy, what is the matter?" Claire asked.
She twined her hands about his arm, and laid her head
caressingly on his shoulder. It was impossible to resist
that pleading upward glance. “I am sure you have some-
thing inportant to say to me.”
" Against my better judgment,"' Jack laughed. “Yes,
I am going to tell you something about your guardian."
Claire listened with the deepest attention as Jack pro-
ceeded to speak freely of the adventures of the last two
days. He watched the change of her face, the flush and
the pallor, and the dawning resolution which gave her
mouth strength and firmness.
"I do not think you need be afraid for me," Claire
said. “I will be brave and resolute; I will do my best
to hide my feelings from Mr. Anstruther. This is a dread-
ful business altogether; but, dreadful as it is, we cannot
draw back now. You have told me some strange things,
but some of your facts are not facts at all."
"In what way have I been mistaken?" Jack asked.
"Well, as to Mr. Anstruther, for instance. You say
that you saw him at Montrose Place last night for the best
part of an hour.”
- Well, so I did," Jack declared. “If you want any-
body to prove that, ask Rigby. Anstruther was there
somewhere about half-past ten, and when he left he had
not the slightest intention of going home.”
“Most extraordinary," Claire murmured. “Listen to
what I have to say, what I should have to swear to if this
thing ever went into a court of justice. Shortly after din-
ner last night Spencer Anstruther went directly to his study;


Which Man Was It?
129
he had not been there very long before he was playing his
violin, and this he continued to do till one o'clock this
morning. Now what do you make of that?"
“ It seems almost incredible,” Jack said. “Was there
a break at all in the performance ?"
Claire replied that there was a break of perhaps twenty-
five minutes to half-an-hour, so far as she could judge,
somewhere about eleven o'clock. Jack smiled with the air
of a man who makes a discovery. This was just the period
when Padini had turned up in Montrose Place. There
was no time to go into theories now, but Jack felt that he
would have a surprise for his friends later on.
6. Tell me, tell me," he said, “do you think you can
recollect the names of all the pieces that Anstruther played
last night? I want you to try and repeat them to me ex-
actly in the order that they occurred. This is more im-
portant than you would imagine.”
It was a somewhat difficult task, but Claire managed it
successfully at length. For a long time the girl bent
thoughtfully over her writing table, and presently produced
a neat list on which were inscribed the names of some ten
or fifteen classical compositions.
“I think you will find that practically correct," she said.
“I may not have recollected the exact order, but I think
that is good enough for your purpose.”
Masefield was quite sure of the fact. He folded the list,
and carefully placed it in his pocket.
“Now there is one more thing I should like,” he said.
“Now, as you are perfectly well aware, Padini was giving
a recital last night at the small Queen's Hall. You will
remember this, more especially as your music agent sent
you a programme, a thing he always does when there is
anything of importance going on. Now, do you think you
could find that programme for me? Not that it very much
matters, because I can step 'round to Smithson's and get one
for myself; still, if you happen to have it in the house -
But Claire was quite certain that she had the programme
somewhere. She produced it presently from a mass of
papers on the piano.


130
The Yellow Face
"Now we shall get at it," Jack said. “I see by this
programme that Padini is down for no less than six items.
He had a most enthusiastic audience, as I happen to know,
which really means that he played about twelve pieces al-
together. Now I will read to you the first four of these
compositions. They are respectively Etude 25, Chopin;
Wiegenlied, Brahms; Moszkowski's Five Waltzes ;
Liszt's · Die Lorelei.' Now, unless I am greatly mistaken,
you will find that those pieces were played in the same
order by Anstruther in his study last night. Is not that
so?"
"Amazing!” Claire cried. "! Putely it is exactly
as you say. What does it mean prot is.
- We will take the list right through all the end if you
like," Jack replied. “The same thing will apply to both
lists. Now is it not an extraordinary thing that those
two men should have gone through exactly the same pro-
gramme, item by item, without the slightest variation?
And all the time they were some two miles apart?"
“ It seems absolutely incapable of explanation," Claire
cried.
“Oh! the explanation will be simple enough when
the time comes," Jack laughed; "but you will see for
yourself that the thing is not quite finished. It is obvious
enough that Padini's recital finished at about eleven,
whereas you say that Anstruther went on till about one
o'clock in the morning. The next business is to find out
where Padini was playing so late-possibly at a smoking
concert or something of that kind. At any rate I am
going to find out, and then I shall discover that the sup-
plementary programme will be exactly the same as your
list.''
“ Is it some new science?" Claire asked, "some
wonderful new discovery that Mr. Anstruther is perfecting
before he submits it to the world ?”
“Not a bit of it," Jack said practically. " There is
nothing occult here. And now I must go. I will see
you at dinner."


CHAPTER XVIII
THE EMPTY ROOM
JACK went off, bent upon putting his discovery to the
test. There was not the slightest trouble in ascertaining
where Padini had passed the hours between eleven and
one of the previous evening. As Masefield had antici-
pated, the artist } en persuaded to lend his services
to the Bohemia Club, where he had been the lion of
the evening. iwe fact Jack ascertained at the club itself,
a musical member affording him all the information he
desired. The previous night's talent had been of a very
middle class nature, so that Padini had found himself in
great request. He had been exceedingly obliging, so
Jack's informant said, and had practically played straight
away for a couple of hours. Jack jotted down the names
of the various items executed by Padini, and on com-
paring them with the list given him by Claire, found that
they tallied exactly.
o The plot thickens,” he murmured, as he walked
rapidly away in the direction of the Planet office, there to
lay his most recent discoveries before Rigby. “What an
ingenious rascal we have to deal with, to be sure !"
Rigby was emphatically of the same opinion. He did
not see how it was possible to better Jack's suggestion
that he should dine at Anstruther's that night and ascertain
all he could as to Anstruther's past, and especially as to
whether the latter had ever been in Mexico.
" There is one little thing we have quite overlooked,"
Jack suggested as he rose to depart. “We have got to
get inside that study. Anstruther's game is to lock him-
self in and pretend that his violin soothes his mind and
induces a proper train of thought. That's his story, of
course. I have ascertained that Padini is doing nothing
to-night, but that will not prevent the music going on
131


132
The Yellow Face
all the same. Now if you could hit upon some scheme
whereby — "
“I know exactly what you mean," Rigby said ; “ you
want to see the inside of the study just at the critical
moment. I think our game is to make a diversion outside.
I'll just turn over the matter in my mind, and if I can see
a really artistic way of doing it, I will send you a telegram
just before you go to dinner. The diversion, of course, will
come from the outside of the house."
Jack felt sure that the matter was quite safe in the ca-
pable hands of Dick Rigby. He was surer still when a little
before eight o'clock his landlady handed him a telegram
containing just three words from Rigby. Before he
slept that night, Jack felt pretty sure that the mystery of
Anstruther's violin practice would be a secret from him no
longer.
It was hard work to keep his feelings under control, to
sit in the drawing-room before dinner was announced and
exchange common places with his brilliant host. Anstruther
had rarely been in better form; he had the air and
mien of a man with whom the world goes very well indeed;
success seemed to stand out in big letters upon him.
Usually Anstruther was a man of moods; to-night he was
merely a society creature with apparently no heed of the
morrow.
If Jack had any misgivings on the subject of Claire's
behavior towards her guardian, his uneasiness was
speedily set at rest. The most critical observer could not
have detected the slightest jarring note. It was all the
same through dinner : Anstruther monopolized most of
the conversation, and Claire followed every word with
flattering attention. Dessert was on the table at length
before Jack carefully led up the conversation to foreign
travel. He had seen much of the world himself, so that
there were several places of mutual interest to be discussed
with Anstruther.
“There is one part of the world, however," Jack said,
as he carelessly peeled a peach, “that I have always been
curious to see. I allude to the land of the Aztecs, those
Hei.


The Empty Room
133
wonderful ruined cities of Mexico, of which we know so
little and profess to know so much. Now, don't you think
that those people must have been of an exceedingly high
state of civilization ?"
The question was so innocently asked, and Jack's artistic
deference was so subtly conveyed, that Anstruther fell
headlong into the trap.
“I should say there is not the slightest doubt about it,"
the host responded. “I have been there ; indeed, I spent
a goodish part of my time in and about Montezuma."
“ And about when would that be?" Jack asked.
Anstruther explained, without giving definite dates,
that it was about two years before. Jack proceeded to
discuss the matter in a casual kind of way. He was
anxious to know whether any of the old customs of the
Aztecs still prevailed ; he had heard that to a great extent
the religion of these people had been built up on free-
masonry. Did, for instance, Anstruther believe in the
legends of terrible revenges which these people used to
inflict upon their enemies ?
But Anstruther declined to put his head further into
the lion's mouth; he seemed to become suddenly a little un-
easy and suspicious and changed the conversation to safer
grounds. Still, Jack had learned quite as much as he had
expected to learn, and Anstruther's very reticence con-
firmed Jack in the feeling that his host knew everything
there was to know about the terrible misfortunes of the man
or men called Nostalgo.
It was getting fairly late now, and Jack was beginning
to wonder whether the hour had not yet arrived for
Rigby's promised diversion. If it came now it would be
merely wasted, seeing that nothing could be gained by
Rigby's ingenious device until Anstruther was safe in
his study. He showed no signs, however, of any dis-
position to move ; his face had grown placid again, and
he was talking with all his old charm of manner on various
topics of interest.
Jack did not fail to notice the figure of Serena as she
fitted noiselessly about the room. It had not escaped


134
The Yellow Face
his notice, either, that the woman had appeared more
than usually anxious and eager when Mexico had been
mentioned. Serena disappeared from the room a moment
in her soft, fitting manner, coming back a moment later
with a telegram, which she laid silently by her master's
side. Anstruther opened the envelope carelessly, and
glanced at the contents.
Just for an instant his face grew dark as a thunder-cloud,
and something like an oath escaped his lips. It was all
like a lightning flash, but the swift change had not been
lost on Jack. Anstruther twisted up the telegram care-
fully, and thrust it in one of the shaded candles before
him, as if he needed a light for his cigar. Jack felt that he
would have given much for a sight of that telegram, but
already it was a little pile of gray ashes upon Anstruther's
dessert plate.
“A great nuisance," the latter said airily : "that is the
worst of being a man of science. But I am not going out
to-night for anybody. I have got some new music I want
to try over presently."
Jack murmured something appropriate to the occasion.
Claire had already left the table, with the suggestion that
perhaps the men would like coffee in the drawing-room.
"You stay here and smoke,” said Anstruther; “ you
won't mind my leaving you, of course, especially as I am
so anxious to get back to my music."
So saying, Anstruther pitched his cigar end on the ash
tray, and moved off in the direction of his study. He had
a gay, debonair manner now; he hummed a fragment of
an operatic air as he walked along. There was the jangle
of a telephone bell presently; almost immediately after-
wards the study door was heard to shut and lock, and the
music began.
“ It seems almost impossible to believe that that can be
Anstruther," Jack said to himself. “No man could im-
prove like that in so short a time. I wonder what Rigby
is doing. I hope he won't spoil the pretty scheme by
over-haste. Probably in the course of half an-hour he will
deem it time to begin."


The Empty Room
135
Evidently Rigby had been of the same opinion, for a
full half-hour elapsed before a sound came from outside
the house. Anstruther was well into his second theme be-
fore there was a sudden knocking and hammering on the
front door, and a stentorian voice burst into cries of
"Fire ! Fire!"
So spontaneous and natural was the whole thing, that
Tack was taken absolutely aback for a moment. It oc-
curred to him, of course, that a fire had broken out inside
the house, and that some passer-by had discovered it.
Again came the hammering on the door and the strident
shouts of those outside. Jack made a leap for the hall,
and raced up-stairs to the drawing-room three steps at a
time. Claire had thrown her book aside, and stood, pale
and startled, demanding to know what was the matter.
“Somebody outside is calling fire,'” Jack explained
hurriedly; " not that I fancy there is much the matter-
the kitchen chimney or something of that kind. There
they go again!"
Once more the hammering and yelling were upraised;
a frightened servant crept across the hall to the front door
and opened it. And yet, despite all this turmoil, the
beautiful soft strains of music below were continuing.
Not for a second did they cease; the player was evidently
too wrapped in his music to be conscious of outside dis-
turbances. Not that the clamor lacked force and volume,
for now that the front door was open the din was absolutely
deafening. Through the break in the disturbance the
sweet, liquid strains of music went on. Fond of his in-
strument as Anstruther might have been, he could be wide
awake and alert enough on ordinary occasions, as Jack
knew only too well. Why, then, was he so callous on this
occasion ?
“Had not you better go down and arouse my guardian?"
Clare suggested; “ surely he is the proper man to look to
a thing like this.”
Jack tumbled eagerly down the stairs, and thundered
with both fists on the study door. As he had more than
half expected, no response came to his summons. The


136
The Yellow Face
music had become still more melodious and dreamy; the
player might have been far away. As Jack turned, he
saw that some half-dozen men were standing in the hall,
one of whom gave him a palpable wink. It was Rigby's
wink, and Jack detected it instantly.
“ There don't seem to be so very much the matter, sir,"
Rigby said. “No more than the kitchen fire. Only we
thought we'd drop in and let you know. You chaps go
to the kitchen and see what you can do."
“How on earth did you manage that?" Jack asked.
“Only a matter of burning a little magnesium light by
the back door," Rigby explained, with a grin; “but it
seems to me only part of our duty to acquaint the master
of the house with the fact that something is wrong. Is
that him playing now, Jack?”.
“ Nobody else,” Jack replied. “Isn't it wonderful?
Anybody would think he was a great artist absolutely lost
to all sense of his surroundings. Still, as you say, it is our
duty to let him know what is going on, even if we have to
break in the door.”
Rigby grinned responsively. Secure in his disguise, he
was not afraid of being taken for anything else but a street
loafer eager to earn a more or less honest shilling. He
tried the door and found it locked; he ran back a pace or
two and hurled himself with full force against the oak
door. Crack went the door on its hinges, the woodwork
gave inwardly, and the room was disclosed to view.
The music had not stopped or faltered for an instant,
the whole apartment was flooded with a delicate melody.
Jack stood there puzzled and bewildered, and with a feel-
ing that he would wake presently and find that it was all a
dream.
“Absolutely stupendous !” he cried ; "music fit food
for the gods, and not a sign of the player !”
For the room was absolutely empty !


CHAPTER XIX
A BROKEN MELODY
There they stood in the empty room, neither speaking,
and gazing about them as if they expected some solution
of the strange mystery to fall upon them. The wildest
part of the whole thing was that though the music con-
tinued in the same sweet, harmonious way, there was not
the slightest suggestion or indication of where it came
from. It could not possibly have been a phonograph or a
gramophone or anything of that kind, as the instrument in
that case would have been in sight. And yet the whole
room was flooded with that beautiful melody as if an invisi-
ble choir had been there making the music of the gods.
“I declare it makes me feel quite queer," Rigby said;
“but of course there must be some practical explanation
of it. Can you suggest any common sense solution ?"
“ No, but I am quite sure that Anstruther could," Jack
replied. “ This has nothing to do with the other world.
What's that?"
Though Jack spoke coolly enough, he was feeling just a
little nervous himself. From the hall beyond came a quick,
buzzing noise, like a muffled circular saw, which resolved
itself presently into the wild whirling of the handle of the
telephone, as if some one were trying to get a call in a
desperate hurry. Rigby jumped at once to the explana-
tion, and Jack proceeded immediately to make a close ex-
amination of the room.
He was still in the act of doing so, when a startled cry
from Rigby brought him up all standing. An instant later
and Anstruther was there, demanding to know the meaning
of this unwarrantable intrusion. Rigby congratulated him-
self upon his diguise; he had no fancy at that moment to
be recognized by Anstruther.
137


138
The Yellow Face
“Who is that loafer yonder ?" Anstruther demanded
passionately. "What is the blackguard doing in my
study? And, if it comes to that, what are you doing here
too?"
Jack proceeded to explain exactly what had happened.
In spite of the confusion of the moment, he had not failed
to notice the fact that the music had ceased directly An-
struther had entered the room. It was quite evident that
Anstruther had not the slightest idea of Rigby's identity.
He was clearly taken in by the story of the fire, and
pitched Rigby a half-crown, which the latter acknowledged
hoarsely, after the manner of the class he was made up to
represent.
"Well, I suppose it is all right now," Anstruther mut-
tered. Usually cool and collected enough, he looked
white and very much agitated. Something had evidently
gone terribly wrong with that man of blood and iron.
“Get these fellows out of the house, please, Masefield. I
have had a great deal to worry me to-night, and I want to
be quiet."
There being nothing further to wait for, and Rigby,
having practically gained his point, departed with an in-
timation to Jack that he would wait outside for him.
Masefield could see that Anstruther was regarding him
with an eye of deep suspicion. But it was 110 cue of Jack's
to notice this; he wanted to make matters as smooth as
possible.
“I suppose you were not very far away?" he said. “I
heard your violin a few minutes before the fire broke out.
I wonder you did not see it for yourself."
Anstruther's face cleared slightly, though Jack noticed
that his hand trembled, and that his pallid lips were
twitching. With a commonplace expression or two, Jack
turned and left the house as if nothing out of the usual run
had happened. He found Rigby patiently waiting for him
at the corner.
“Well, what do you think of that ?" Rigby asked. “I
am exceedingly glad to find that Anstruther did not recog-
nize me. A most unlucky thing that he should have come


A Broken Melody
139
back like that. Given a half-an-hour alone in that room,
it would have been an odd thing if we had not solved the
mystery of the invisible musician. But it is hardly safe
to stop and discuss the question here. Walk on to the
Planet office, and wait for me there."
“Is there any more to be done to-night?" Jack asked,
when he and his friend were alone once more, seated in
the latter's office. “Shall we stop here, or do you want
to proceed further before you go to bed ?"
** Well, you can do as you please,” Rigby said. “I
don't know that I particularly desire your services at
present. My notion is to go back to Panton Square, and
hang about on the off-chance of seeing something."
“ And spend half the night in dodging the police," Jack
laughed. “That's a very primitive idea of yours ; I flatter
myself I have a much better idea than that. Anstruther
will never betray himself; we haven't the slightest chance
of trapping him. Now, unless I amn altogether out of it,
Padini is the man we want to get hold of. He is exceed-
ingly vain ; like most artists, there is nothing secretive
about him, and I am told that he is particularly fond of a
glass of champagne. Depend upon it, that fellow will talk
fast enough when the time comes. If he doesn't, we can
make him.”
“ But we must have something to go upon,” Rigby ob-
served thoughtfully. “I think we are justified in assum-
ing that the fellow is a wrong 'un; anyway, our hands will
be greatly strengthened if we can find something to his
discredit."
" That's exactly what I mean to do," Jack said. “Now
Bates is quite as much interested in this matter as we are,
and though you have backed yourself against the police in
this case, there is no reason why you shouldn't make use
of them. Besides, we are not bound to tell Bates too
much. If there is anything to be found out to the discredit
of Padini, Bates is the very man for our purpose.”
But, as it transpired subsequently, Bates was not avail-
able. He had just gone off, so the sergeant said, having
been called in to investigate a burglary quite recently dis-


140
The Yellow Face
covered in Belgrave Gardens. It was something exceed-
ingly neat in the way of a burglary, the sergeant explained,
with the air of a connoisseur in such matters; in fact, the
place had been routed during the progress of a big
reception. No ladders had been used, no wedges or com-
monplace implements of that kind ; indeed, it was more
than suspected that the burglary was the work of two of
the guests.
An unfortunate footman, being where he ought not to
have been, had had his suspicions aroused by the move-
ments of two distinguished-looking men in evening dress.
He had come quite unexpectedly upon them in one of the
corridors, and had so far forgotten himself as to want to
know what they were doing there. Immediately one of
them had felled him with some blunt, heavy instrument,
and he had only just time to yell a note of warning before
he fainted. The cry was taken up at once, and immedi-
ately the corridor was filled with men guests. In the con-
fusion, and owing to the fact that the thieves themselves
were in evening dress, it was impossible to lay hands on
the culprits. All this the sergeant told his visitors with an
air of great enjoyment.
"If you give us the number we will walk round there,”
Rigby said." Thank you very much."
The big house in Belgrave Gardens had lost most of
its air of simmering excitement by the time the two friends
reached there. They were informed that Bates had nearly
finished his investigations, and, indeed, the inspector came
into the hall at that moment, accompanied by Lord Long-
worth. He held in his hand a beautifully embroidered
silk muffler-one of those choice affairs which are large
enough to cover a dinner table, and yet small enough to
go into a waistcoat pocket.
.“ Very strange indeed, your lordship," Bates was say-
ing ; “I can't understand it at all. Here is your injured
footman prepared to swear that one of his assailants was
wearing that muffler when he came into the house, that is,
on his arrival. And here we have Mrs. Montague ready
to swear that the muffler belongs to her. Whether she


A Broken Melody
141
likes it or not, I really must insist upon my right to take
this wrap away with me. If it proves to belong to Mrs.
Montague, why, of course –
And the detective shrugged his shoulders. A moment
later, and he was in the street with Masefield and Rigby.
He listened carefully enough to the dramatic version of the
story they had to tell him, and professed himself ready to
do anything required of him.
“Of course, I know nothing whatever about this violin
mystery," he said. “I have quite enough to do to look
after the native element in the way of rascality. But there
are ways and means of getting the better of the gentle
foreigner.”
"But I always understood that Scotland Yard employed
detectives of all nationalities ?" Rigby observed.
“ Haven't you got anybody on your staff with a knowl-
edge of international crime ?"
Bates responded that such was the case. If the friends
liked, he would go with them at once to the residence of
Superintendent Zimburg, and there see what could be
done. “As far as I am personally concerned, my own
hands are very full to-night."
“ Your sergeant told us that this was a very interesting
case,” Jack suggested. “Is it possible that this burglary
was the work of some guests invited to the house ?"
“ Honestly, I believe it to be the case," Bates pro-
ceeded to explain. “After all said and done, modern
society is a pretty queer mixture. Given a good presence
and a good address, plus the appearance of the posses-
sion of money, it is quite possible for a man to get any-
where. Take a big reception like the one that Lord Long-
worth gave to-night. Now, it would be quite fair to as-
sume that his lordship and his wife were not personally
acquainted with at least a third of the guests present.
Somebody takes a friend, and that friend takes somebody
else, and there you are. Of course, you are aware of the fact
that at all big weddings nowadays it is absolutely necessary
to employ detectives. To-night's business was exceed-
ingly neat and novel, and might have been wonderfully


142
The Yellow Face
successful but for the footman. All the same I am quite
certain that the thing was executed by somebody who is
actually a guest of his lordship."
“And not so much as a clue left behind," Jack
laughed.
"Well, there is, and there isn't," Bates admitted. “I
had a good look round when everybody was gone, and
the only thing I could lay my hands on was this wonderful
silk muffler. Nobody owned it; the injured footman
declares that he saw a gentleman arriving earlier in the
evening who had this muffler about his neck. Here was
a fine clue, I thought to myself. And then Mrs. Montague
comes back in her brougham and claims this thing as her
own. Distinctly annoying, don't you think?"
“Annoying enough,” Rigby agreed ; “but is the
muffer in question so very much out of the common?”
Bates was emphatically of the opinion that such was the
case. He produced the thing from his pocket, and the
three men proceeded to examine it in the light of a street
lamp. Jack appeared as if about to say something, then
suddenly changed his mind, and began to whistle instead.
They came at length once more to Shannon Street police
station, where Bates telephoned to Superintendent Zim-
burg, asking the latter if he would come round imme-
diately. He arrived a few moments later—a slim, dark
little man, with a vivacious manner and a beard with an
interrogative cock to it. He smiled in a greasy sort of
way at the suggestion that there might be some prom-
inent foreign scoundrel in London with whom he was not
acquainted.
"I know the whole gang," he said. “ That is exactly
my business. Have I seen anything, or do I know any-
thing of this Padini ? Probably I do, but not under that
name. Oh, yes, it is quite a usual thing for some of the
pink of cosmopolitan rascals to be talented. For instance,
I know at least three who might have made great names as
artists, only they prefer the seamy side of life. There is
another who might have been a poet. Therefore, I see no
reason why this Padini, or whatever his proper name may


A Broken Melody
143
be, should not be a really great violinist. If you have such
a thing as a portrait -
But Bates had nothing of the kind, and the whole thing
looked like coming to a deadlock, when Rigby suddenly
recollected that a portrait of Padini was to be obtained at
the office of the Planet. The violinist's portrait had been
produced in the Planet two days before, and the original
was still lying about the office.
“I'll take a cab and be back in ten minutes," Rigby
said.
He was back in the prescribed time, and produced a
cabinet portrait of Padini, which he handed over to the
superintendent.
* Now, what do you make of that ?” he asked.


The Mouse in the Trap
145
self in the cells in a more or less dilapidated condition, and
here it was that the paint-box came in. Black eyes and
discolored faces and that kind of thing, Bates explained.
“I assure you that a dash or two of paint makes all the
difference in the world."
Jack smiled as he bent over the photograph, and with
a few subtle touches decorated the face with a fierce blond
moustache. He handed the card over without comment
to Zimburg. The little man's face fairly beamed with
delight.
"Ah! but you are a clever gentleman," he cried.
"Now I know our friend. Yes, yes, but he is a very
clever man. And older than he looks, mind you; that
fellow has eluded the Continental police for years. It
would be absurd to try and give his real name, for probably
he has forgotten it himself. Yes, I have heard of his play-
ing before; not that I regarded him as quite good enough
for a public platform. Wherever that man goes, roguery
follows as a matter of course. Depend upon it, his ap-
pearance here means mischief. I will have him carefully
watched, and before long I shall have the pleasure of lay-
ing him by the heels."
" Don't do that, at least until you are absolutely obliged
to,” Jack said eagerly. “We are interested, deeply in-
terested, in the movements of Signor Padini. It is more
or less of a private matter, but if you could provide us with
some means of getting a hold on that fellow we should be
exceedingly obliged to you."
Zimburg promised to do his best, and departed. For
some little time Rigby and Bates stood discussing the most
recent developments of the case, whilst Jack sat in a
thoughtful attitude, evidently puzzling something out.
“Do you call Zimburg a really clever detective ?” he
asked at length. “ It seems to me that he has a poor
memory for faces. For instance, he had not the slightest
idea who the man Padini was till that moustache was added
to the face of the photograph.”
Bates, eager in defense of his colleagues, remarked that
a little thing like that often made a vast difference.


146
The Yellow Face
“ That is one of the great advantages of the Bertillon
system,” he explained. “I don't care how clever a man
may be-and when I speak of a clever man I mean a
policeman in this instance-he is often utterly deceived by
some slight physical change. Take the case of the late
Charles Peace if you like. I understand that he could
alter the expression and even the shape of his face entirely.
Make your mind quite easy, for Zimburg will work it all
out like some ingenious puzzle. I suppose you are aware
of the fact that the London and Paris police have thou-
sands of careful records made of the measurements of well-
known criminals ?”.
“ But Zimburg can't very well measure Padini,'' Rigby
argued. “He can't make him drunk, or anything of that
kind.”
“ No, but he can have him arrested on some faked-up
charge," Bates laughed. “That little game has been
played more than once when we wanted the measurements
of some clever criminal who had never passed through
our hands."
“ That is very ingenious," Rigby said, “and I shan't
forget it. If facts like those were more widely known, I
fancy you would get more assistance from the Press.”
Bates emphatically repudiated the suggestion.
“I have often heard you say, in fact it is rather a fruit-
ful source of complaint to the police, that the newspapers
do them more harm than good," Jack said reflectively;
“ but I think I can see a way whereby the Press could
give you a good leg-up in the case of this Belgrave
Gardens mystery. Dick, is it too late to get a paragraph
inserted in to-morrow's Planet ?"
“Oh, dear, no,” Rigby explained. “ Probably no paper
in London goes to bed later than we do. We make it
a point of keeping open till the last possible minute, and
we have a good hour before us yet. But what are you
driving at?
"Well, it is this way. It is pretty clear that one of the
thieves was wearing that embroidered scarf which was also
claimed by Mrs. Montague. Probably there were two


The Mouse in the Trap
147
such mufflers, but that does not affect my argument.
Of course, a description of this affair will appear in to-
morrow's Planet, but I should like to embroider on it a
bit. Suppose we add to the report a paragraph to the
effect that the thief left a marvelous wrap behind him.
We could say that it was absolutely unique, and all that
sort of thing, just the sort of silly gossip that your readers
are so fond of. We could hint that the scarf still remains
at Belgrave Gardens for identification. Now it is a thou-
sand to one this paragraph reaches the eye of the thief,
or is brought to his notice. This being so, he will lose no
opportunity of getting the wrap back again. All you
have to do is to keep the house carefully under observa-
tion, and your man falls into your hands like a ripe black-
berry. What does the inspector think of our little
scheme?"
Bates pondered the matter a moment or two, and then
cautiously remarked that at any rate there could be no
harm in it. Whereupon the two friends went away to-
gether, and half-an-hour later a spicy paragraph had been
constructed for the delectation of the Planet's readers to-
morrow. Rigby threw the paragraph aside, and whistled
up-stairs to the composing room.
" You look as if you had something at the back of your
mind," he said, passing the cigarettes across to his com-
panion. “ Jack, you have found something out ?"
“Upon my word, I believe I have," Jack replied. “It
is rather soothing to one's vanity to get on the inside
track so far as a detective is concerned. But it would not
have been at all fair on my part to have said anything to
Bates, seeing that you are investigating this Nostalgo busi-
ness on your own account. Not that I am absolutely
certain of my facts now, but I shall be after I have seen
Miss Helmsley in the morning. Now, is there anything
else we can do to-night? I suppose even an indefatigable
journalist like yourself goes to bed sometimes."
Anstruther was fortunately out when Jack called at
Panton Square the next morning. He smiled to himself
as he noticed a copy of the Planet on the hall table. It


148
The Yellow Face
had evidently been carefully read, and on page 5, where
the account of the Belgrave Gardens burglary appeared,
somebody had ticked the paragraph with a pencil. Miss
Helmsley was in the drawing-room, the housemaid said,
and would see Mr. Masefield if he would go up-stairs.
Claire was looking a little pale and distracted, Jack
thought ; her eyes bore evidence of the fact that she had
passed a restless night. But her face lighted up, and
the old charm of feature reasserted itself as Jack entered.
“Come, come, this won't do,” he said, half tenderly,
half playfully. “Positively I shall have to kiss the color
back to those pallid lips of yours. What is worrying you
so much, dearest ?"
“Nothing worries me so long as I am with you," the
girl said, as she stood with Jack's arm about her. “And
yet I almost wish that you had never told me what you
did yesterday.”
"You cannot wish it more than I do, sweetheart," Jack
murmured; “but don't you see that it was almost neces-
sary? There is some desperate rascality going on here,
and your happiness could never have been an assured
thing till we got to the bottom of it."
“But that is just what frightens me," Clare protested.
“I cannot get out of my mind the recollection of what
happened last night. I shall never listen to that music
again without the feeling that some unknown danger is
hovering about me. I am frightened, Jack, frightened to
my very soul. And yet the whole thing can be explained;
I am sure you can explain it yourself if you like?".
Jack replied that he hoped to do so in a few days. He
assured Claire that there was nothing supernatural about
the thing. For both their sakes he exhorted Claire to be
brave. The red mouth grew hard and firm ; there was a
look of resolution in the girl's blue eyes,
“ It shall be even as you say," she cried. “But tell
me, has anything fresh happened since last night ?".
"Nothing that is worth speaking of," Jack said, feeling
a little ashamed of his evasion. “ Did Anstruther go out
again last night? By the way, he seldom wears an over-


The Mouse in the Trap
149
coat; at least, so I understood him to say. When he
came in last evening, after the fire broke out, I noticed
that he was not wearing an overcoat then. Where does
he get those wonderful embroidered scarves from ?".
" He has only one, so far as I know," Claire explained.
“ Originally there were three, but two were either lost or
given away. Wonderful work, is it not ?".
" Wonderful work, indeed,” Jack agreed; “but he did
not tell me where they came from.”
“So far as I can understand they came from Mexico.
The silk is really Chinese, of a quality which is made only
for the imperial palace of Pekin. To steal this material
is an offense punishable by death, but it is sometimes
smuggled out of the town, and clever natives of Southern
Mexico do the embroidery. But why are you so curious
about this scarf ?".
“Oh, I merely thought I should like to get one like
it," Jack said carelessly. He had no intention of frighten-
ing Claire more than was absolutely necessary. “Couldn't
you let me see it for a minute or two? I suppose you
know where it is kept ?".
Claire knew perfectly well where to lay her hands upon
the scarf. Anstruther was a methodical man, and hated
to have his things lying about. He only used the scarf
at such times as he was in evening dress. Claire went
off, and Jack was by no means surprised that he had to
wait a quarter of an hour. When Claire returned her
hands were empty; there was a puzzled frown between
her usually smooth white brows.
"A most extraordinary thing," she said. “I cannot
find the scarf anywhere. It is quite certain that Mr.
Anstruther is not wearing it; I thought perhaps he had
thrown it carelessly down last night in the excitement of
the moment, and therefore I asked Serena if she had seen
anything of it. But she declared that she knew nothing,
and yet at the same time she seemed to be extraordinarily
upset and agitated by my simple question. She is not an
emotional woman, as you know ;. therefore her conduct is
all the more amazing. But the fact remains that this


150
The Yellow Face
scarf cannot be found, and so I cannot oblige you. I will
ask Mr. Anstruther if you like "
But Jack emphatically wanted nothing of the kind. He
was in a hurry now, he said, and would call again later in
the day. He made his way directly to the Planet office,
where he found that Rigby had just arrived.
“No, there are no fresh developments," he explained.
“ Did you take my advice last night, and have the house
in Belgrave Gardens watched by a private detective in
addition to the policeman engaged by Bates ?".
“Of course I did," Rigby replied. “As a matter of
fact I have two men at work there; one to relieve the
other, and report progress from time to time. In fact,
one of them has only just come in. He has very little to
say, but that little was an eye-opener. I have ascertained
that Anstruther is not even acquainted with Lord Long-
worth, and yet ore of the first men to call in Belgrave
Gardens this morning was Spencer Anstruther. Now, do
you think he had anything to do with last night's busi-
ness; otherwise what do you suppose he called for?"
"That is exactly what I am here to tell you," Jack said.
“ The scarf which formed so important a clue belonged
to Anstruther. It is missing from his house; in fact, I
called there this morning on purpose to examine the
thing. We have hit the right nail on the head this time
-the lost property in the hands of Inspector Bates is
beyond a doubt the cherished possession of Spencer
Anstruther."


CHAPTER XXI
A LEADER OF SOCIETY
It was a most important discovery that Jack had made,
and Rigby did not fail to see what developments it was
likely to lead to. If what Masefield had said was true-
and Rigby saw no reason to doubt it-here they had
Anstruther directly connected with crime.
“Do you really think that our friend actually engineered
that business at Lord Longworth's ?" Rigby asked.
“I can come to no other conclusion," Jack replied.
“ You must understand that Anstruther is a kind of a
specialist in crime; he has frequently been consulted by
the police, and, I believe, has brought off some wonderful
results. He has even written a book on the subject. Now,
we know Anstruther to be an unscrupulous rascal. The
police looked upon him as a brilliant aid to themselves.
If a man like this chooses to play the part of a criminal
Dupuin, see what marvelous opportunities he has. He
knows everything about the movements of the police ; he
can anticipate all their schemes. It is as if Bates himself
had turned burglar. Whatever Mrs. Montague might say,
it is pretty certain that the embroidered scarf belongs to
Anstruther. Quite inadvertently he left it at Lord Long-
worth's last night, where he was passing in the crowd as
an invited guest."
“I know that sort of thing is done," Rigby said. “A
very impudent example came under my notice the other
day. The thing is much easier done than one would
imagine."
“Do you mean to say," Jack asked, “ that it is possible
for a gentlemanly scoundrel to walk into the house of some
great society lady giving a reception, and not be spotted
immediately for what he is ? It seems absurd !".
“ Not a bit of it!" Rigby replied. “To the audacious
everything is possible. Supposing a duchess is giving a
151


152
The Yellow Face
reception. She has asked perhaps a thousand guests.
Half-way through the evening she is so tired and worn
out that she does not know or care to whom she may be
speaking. Here is the chance for the gentlemanly swindler
we are talking about. Of course he is perfectly dressed;
he has the most exquisite manners. He lounges up to
his hostess, and, after the usual greetings, makes some
confidential remark about some friend of the family, which
immediately stamps him as one of a certain set. All he
has got to do now is to saunter along as if the whole place
belonged to him, and help himself to such costly trifles as
his mind inclines to.”.
“ Did you ever know of a case in point?" Jack asked.
“My dear chap, I not only know of a case, but I was
more or less party to it. It was done for a bet, and I
was one of the losers. It was so easily managed that I
should not in the least mind trying it myself."
"Well, it seems very odd to me," Jack murmured.
“ Still, if you know it has been done, there is an end of it."
"Well, it has been shown pretty conclusively," said
Rigby, “that Anstruther must have been there last night.”
" Quite so," Jack went on. “At any rate the scarf was
left behind. I recognized it as soon as ever I saw it in
Bates's hand; therefore I was absolutely sure that An-
struther had been at the reception. That is why I sug-
gested that paragraph in the Planet. It is just the sort
of silly gossip that papers publish after a sensational
crime, and is calculated to hamper the police more than
help them. I felt quite sure that somebody or other would
bring that paragraph to Anstruther's notice, and that he
would lose no time in trying to recover the scarf. I dare
say there are other scarves like it in existence, but they
are not so common that Anstruther could afford to take
any risk. That he realized the gravity of the situation is
proved by the fact that he has lost no time in calling at
Lord Longworth's to recover the missing property. I
think I have made my case very clear."
"Nothing could be clearer,” Rigby replied. “An-
struther is at the bottom of this business. I should say


A Leader of Society
153
he is the cleverest rascal in London at the present moment.
And mark the cunning of the beast. Don't you see how
easy he can prove an alibi ? If he were met face to face
now, and taxed with the fact that he was at Lord Long-
worth's last night he would politely deny it, and, if pressed,
have not the slightest difficulty of demonstrating that he
was elsewhere."
“But I don't quite see,” Jack interrupted, “exactly
how that "
“ Clear as mud," Rigby said. “Why he has only got
to call his servants and Miss Helmsley to prove that he
was in the study all the evening playing his violin.”
“How stupid of me," Jack muttered. “ The full
beauty of that little scheme had been lost on me. There
is a good deal we have to learn yet. But I can't stay talk-
ing to you any longer this morning, as I promised Claire
that I would go and see Lady Barmouth. I have told
Claire nearly everything there is to learn, and she is quite
willing to be a friend of Lady Barmouth's and share her
troubles. I will see you later on in the day.”
Jack went off in the direction of Lord Barmouth's house.
He had some little hesitation in calling so early in the
day, but then the matter was imperative, and he knew
that Lady Barmouth would be glad to hear Claire's de-
cision. The lady in question was sitting in her boudoir,
accompanied by two secretaries, who appeared to be tre-
mendously busy with a long visiting list and some ex-
quisitely-designed cards of invitation to a masked ball.
But Lady Barmouth, heedless of Jack's apologies, declared
that she had always time to spare for him.
"It is not I who am so busy," she said ; "in fact, this
is merely mechanical work. I am giving my great party
of the season, and now that I have made out the list of
intended guests, the rest is merely mechanical.”
So saying, Lady Barmouth led the way into an inner
drawing-room, the door of which she carefully closed.
“ You have some news for me," she cried eagerly. “I
am quite sure you have come straight to me from Miss
Helmsley."


154
The Yellow Face
“ That is the fact," Jack said gravely. " Rather against
my better judgment, I have told Claire everything. She
knows now the class of man her guardian is; she knows
that she will have to be terribly careful lest he should
suspect. But Claire has a courage and determination
which came quite as a surprise to me. I think the secret
will be safe in her hands."
“Yes ! yes !” Lady Barmouth cried; “but what about
me?"
“I was coming to that. It seems to be a case of
mutual sympathy between you. As a matter of fact it
seems to me that Claire likes you as well as you like her.
Anyway, she is going to see you this afternoon, when you
can talk matters over without reserve. But tell me, does
Lord Barmouth take any kind of interest in these festivities
of yours?"
“He is goodness and kindness itself," Lady Barmouth
said warmly. “He has always insisted that his mis-
fortunes should not interfere with my personal enjoyment.
At a dinner, or a reception, or an ordinary dance, my
husband never shows himself. Despite his terrible mis-
fortunes he thoroughly enjoys his amusements; he likes
to mingle with people, seeing everything, and not being
seen himself. That is why I give so many of these masked
balls. This is going to be an extra smart affair, and I
am asking my lady friends to wear as many jewels as
possible."
“ Claire told me something about it,” Jack said. “I
gathered that she is to be one of the invited guests."
"I am asking both Miss Helmsley and Mr. Anstruther,"
Lady Barmouth explained. “There is some danger in
asking the latter, but one has to take these risks."
Jack murmured something that sounded sympathetic.
Had Lady Barmouth only known it, the risk was far
greater than she imagined. If Jack's suspicions were
correct that Anstruther was mixed up with a gang of
expert thieves, here then was a golden opportunity. The
mere fact of it being a masked ball simply added to his
opportunities. So deeply did Jack ponder over this, that


A Leader of Society
155
it was some little time before he grasped the fact that Lady
Barmouth was still giving him details of the forthcoming
function.
"I am asking a lot of most prominent actresses," she
said, “ together with a number of leading musicians, and
they are getting up a kind of morris dance. Of course,
the music will be supplied by a small band of famous
artists, and I am getting this new man Padini to be
present."
Here was more news with a vengeance. But there was
nothing to be gained by telling Lady Barmouth what had
been elicited with regard to Padini.
“I presume I shall be honored with an invitation," Jack
suggested. "I see from the expression of your face that I
am to be a guest. Might I beg the favor of a card for a
friend of mine?"
“More mysteries !” Lady Barmouth laughed. “Oh,
you need not tell me unless it is absolutely necessary.
You shall take the card away with you if you like, and
deliver it to your friend personally.”
Jack was seeing his way pretty clearly by this time.
He was anticipating more than one important discovery
during the progress of the masked dance. The card he
had begged was, of course, for Rigby, and it would go
hard if between them they did not discover something of
importance.
"Now, I am going to speak to you on a more or less
painful topic," Jack said gravely. “And I am going to
ask you to be exceedingly candid with me. I want you
to tell me what is the exact connection between Lord Bar-
mouth and the Nostalgo posters which are so prominent in
London at present.”
The jeweled pen with which Lady Barmouth had been
scribbling on the two invitation cards fell from her fingers
on to the blotting pad. There were trouble and unhappi-
ness in her eyes, her face had turned deadly pale; it was
some little time before she spoke.
“ Must I really tell you that?" she almost pleaded.
“ You are striking directly at the root of the unhappiness


156
The Yellow Face
which poisons this house. It is not as if you really knew
anything
“But indeed I know more than you give me credit for,"
Jack urged. “It was of no seeking of mine ; it was not
the result of any vulgar curiosity ; but last night when
your husband was here I caught one glimpse of his face
in the light of the log fire. And there I saw at once that
I was face to face with Nostalgo. Believe me, it is with
the greatest possible regret that I have to speak like this,
but I am near to the heart of the mystery, and if you are
plain and frank with me I am sanguine enough to believe
that I can remove your unhappiness altogether."
“But the secret is not my own,” Lady Barmouth
faltered.
“Then let us assume that I have wrested it from you,"
Jack murmured. “ It is no fault of yours that I know so
much. It is no fault of yours that you are in some way
under an obligation to somebody-an obligation which
compelled you to be in Montrose Place last night. Luckily
for us you kept your appointment. But there was some-
body else also keeping an appointment in the courtyard.
Whether he came there dragged by the force of circum-
stances, or whether he came to watch, matters little. But
as he paused to light a cigarette and the pallid blue of the
flame shone on his face I recognized_Lord Barmouth."
The listener said nothing; she merely bowed her head
over the blotting pad before her.
“Ah! I feel the circumstances are too strong for me,”
she said. “It is as if you were pushing me over the edge
of a precipice. I cannot decide this matter on my own
initiative."
" That is exactly the line I hoped you would take,"
Jack cried eagerly. “After his interview with us last
night, Lord Barmouth must be perfectly sure of the fact
that Rigby and myself are actuated by the kindest motives
towards him. Go and see him now, tell him all that I
have said to you, and ask him if he will be good enough
to grant me a ten minutes' private conversation. I am
sure he will do this; indeed, if he refuses, there are others


A Leader of Society
157
interested in the matter who may cause him to say in
public what he declines to admit in private."
"I will do as you suggest," Lady Barmouth replied,
" though I fear you will be met with a refusal as firm as it
is courteous. If you will excuse me for a moment "
Lady Barmouth said no more, but turned hurriedly and
left the room. That she was very deeply moved Jack could
see for himself. She came back presently, with a wan,
white ghost of a smile on her lips, and a remark to the
effect that Lord Barmouth was not prepared to accede to
Jack's request off-hand, but that he would give it his
earnest consideration, and send his decision in the course
of a quarter of an hour.
“It is exceedingly awkward for me,” Jack said ; “ you
can see how delicate the ground is I stand upon. But
believe me I am only being cruel to be kind. I am sure
that when I have finished my interview with Lord Bar-
mouth he will be exceedingly glad that he has consented to
see me."
“Oh, I quite understand your feelings," Lady Barmouth
exclaimed. “It must be dreadful for a gentleman to ap-
pear obtruding like this. But are you quite sure that the
figure you saw in the courtyard at Montrose Place last night
was my husband? You seem to have forgotten the other
Nostalgo who was supposed to have been found dead by
yourself in Panton Square the other night.”.
Jack admitted readily enough that there were many
sides to the mystery as yet unsolved. He was still dis-
cussing the point, when the footman entered, and gravely
announced that Lord Barmouth was waiting to see Mr.
Masefield. Lady Barmouth rose to her feet at once, and
escorted Jack to a small room at the end of the corridor.
The apartment was in coniplete darkness; it was just pos-
sible to discern the outline of a figure in an armchair.
"I am pleased to see you, Mr. Masefield. I think you
will find an armchair on the other side of the fireplace.
My dear, I shall be pleased if you will leave Mr. Masefield
and myself alone together."


The Portrait
159
picions was more a girlish fancy than anything else. Of
course you know Mr. Spencer Anstruther very well by
name?"
“Ay, I know him by something more than name," Bar-
mouth said, in deep, thrilling tones. “If that scoundrel
had never been born I should—but I am interrupting you.
Pray proceed."
"Well, to revert to what I was saying," Jack went on,
“that Nostalgo poster' was hardly fully impressed upon
my mind's eye, before I began to notice some grotesque
resemblance between it and Spencer Anstruther. Without
hurting your feelings, the poster is devilishly hideous;
Anstruther, on the other hand, is a singularly handsome
man. But, despite all this, despite my common sense, I
could not rid myself of the idea that the likeness was some-
where.
"A chance remark of mine served to confirm my im-
pression. It threw Anstruther into a sudden fit of passion.
His face was literally convulsed with fury, but only for
an instant. Still, that instant sufficed. There was Nos-
talgo in the flesh before me—the same drawn-up lips, the
same hideous squint of the oblique eyes, the same dreadful,
hawkish look about the nose. A second later the likeness
was gone. I cannot forget, I never shall forget my feelings
at that moment. If I fail to interest you — ".
“ You are interesting me more than words can tell,"
Barmouth said hoarsely. “Pray proceed.”
“ There is not much more to tell," Jack said. “Per-
haps you have heard of the Nostalgo devil whom I found
dead the other night in Panton Square? I mean the man
whose body so mysteriously vanished from the Shannon
Street station?"
" Yes, I heard of that," Barmouth admitted ; “but
you will not be in the least astonished to learn that the
whole affair was no surprise to me. All the same, I think
you will find later on that the supposed victim is not dead
at all. And now I am going to speak, and you are going
to listen."
Jack intimated that he desired nothing better. He


160
The Yellow Face
could make out the outline of the figure opposite him,
wriggling and twisting in his chair.
“As you are quite aware, a little more than two years
ago I went to Mexico. There was no thought of evil in
my mind; I went out merely with an eye to sport. I have
been fond of adventure all my life, and Mexico seemed to
afford a fine field for such amusements as I was looking
for. But the shooting was a great disappointment, and I
had to turn elsewhere for recreation. A little later on I
found myself in Southern Mexico, living with a half-savage
tribe, who showed signs that at some long-forgotten period
the same tribe had enjoyed a high state of civilization.
As a matter of fact, there were two of these tribes living
only a few leagues apart, and both exceedingly antagonistic
to each other.
“Of course I had to throw my lot in with one section,
and take care that I didn't fall into the hands of the other.
The reason of this bitterness I discovered arose from the
fact that both claimed possession of a belt of land which
was supposed to contain gold. Now, I am an exceedingly
rich man, as you know. But I got the gold fever as badly
as if I had been the neediest adventurer who ever wielded
pick and shovel.
"I had been told by my friends that the leader of the
other section was an Englishman like myself. He was
supposed to have married one of the women of the tribe,
and adopted their manners and customs. Of course, I
needed no one to tell me that only such a powerful incen-
tive as gold could have persuaded an educated Englishman
to remain permanently with a tribe. This other section
was far the more powerful of the two, and they gave us fair
warning that any of us that were caught in the gold belt
would be likely to suffer for it. This was quite good enough
for me. Picking out a score of the most daring adventurers,
we made up our minds to put in some exploring without
delay. I may mention the fact that some of these adven-
turers were Europeans also. Anyway, we set out one
evening, and morning found us lighting our camp-fire right
in the heart of the gold belt.


The Portrait
161
" On that occasion I had been left behind to look after
the cooking whilst the others pushed on to a likely spot
where indications of the precious metal might be found.
My companions had hardly disappeared from sight before
a man came riding up to me and demanded my business.
It was quite easy to see that he was an Englishman, despite
the fact that he was arrayed in the full war paint of the
tribe. He was a fine, powerful man, and his face denoted
great intellectual gifts. Come, Mr. Masefield, you are a
clever man yourself, and therefore will have no difficulty in
guessing who the stranger was.”
“Anstruther for a hundred," Masefield cried.
“ You have guessed it exactly, as I thought you would,"
Lord Barmouth went on gravely. “It was Anstruther,
and no other. He wasted no time in demanding to know
what I was doing there. He warned me of the dreadful
pains and penalties likely to occur if I remained where I
was, but I laughed him to scorn. By way of reply he
gave a shrill whistle, and there emerged from the scrubby
brush a small misshapen man with the most hideous face
that it has ever been my lot to look upon. Need I describe
that face, Mr. Masefield ?".
"No," Jack said, in an awed voice. “It was another
Nostalgo."
"Once more you have guessed it," Barmouth went on
in the same grave way. "Anstruther pointed to the
shrinking figure by his side, and told me that I must either
go back at once, or that I must suffer the same fate as the
man by his side. My blood was hot then ; I cared for no
man. I do not exactly know how it commenced, but pres-
ently we were exchanging revolver shots, each determined
to do for the other. I suppose somebody crept up behind
me, for I was just conscious of a terrible blow on the back
of the head, and then I remembered no more.
“When I came to myself I was lying in a deserted hut,
absolutely alone, and with a feeling upon me that I had
just recovered from a long and painful illness. There was
food beside me, a little native spirit in a bottle ; my clothes
were neatly laid at the foot of my bed. When I reached


162
The Yellow Face
the open I recognized the fact that I was in a spot some
fifty miles on the far side of the gold belt. From the
length of my beard I calculated that I must have been
lying there for some three weeks. My horse I found out-
side, and, feeling strong enough to proceed on my
journey, I rode off in the direction of the tribe to which I
was attached. I was feeling fairly well, and conscious
only of a strange tightening sensation in the muscles of the
face.
“At that moment I had no conception of the awful
misfortune which had overtaken me. I was glad enough
at length to come in contact with one or two members of
mny tribe. Judge of my astonishment when they fled as if
in terror at my approach. It was the same in the village.
I might have been afflicted with some loathsome disease,
seeing how everybody ran at my approach. I reached
my hut at length, tired, and hot, and angry, my
first idea being to shave and make myself respectable. A
glance at my looking-glass revealed the whole hideous
truth. I was as I am at this moment: a ghastly carica-
ture of a man, who dared not look his fellow creatures in
the face."
It was some time before Lord Barmouth spoke again.
It was not for Jack to interrupt the tenor of his painful
thoughts. But the silence was so long that he felt bound
to speak at length.
"But how does this give Anstruther such a hold on
you?” he asked.
" That is another matter entirely,'' Barmouth explained,
"though, of course, it touches on the main issue. You
see, that though Anstruther knows me as the James Smith
I used to be called in Mexico, he has not the remotest idea
that I am Lord Barmouth. In fact, that man blackmails
me.”
“I don't quite follow," Jack said.
“I admit it sounds a little complicated," Barmouth
went on. “As my real self Anstruther does not know me.
Why should he interest himself in an apparently broken-
down hypochondriac? The man he cares about is · James


The Portrait
163
Smith,' the Nostalgo whom he regards as a relative of my
wife, and who lives here in some secluded part of the
house. Heaven only knows if he is really aware of the
truth, for he is so clever a scoundrel that he is quite
capable of deceiving me on that point till the time is ripe
to expose me and degrade me despite the sums of money I
have paid him. I do not know, I dare not ask. Call me
a coward if you like, but if you had gone through what I
have -
Barmouth paused, and wiped the moisture from his
forehead.
“ If I were not Lord Barmouth," he continued, “I
would care little or nothing for what he says; but for the
sake of my wife I have to submit to his persecutions.
Therefore it is that at certain seasons of the year I meet
Anstruther in Montrose Place and hand him over a thou.
sand pounds. But there is one draw back to Anstruther's
mastery of the situation. There are other men who were
as vilely treated as myself, and some day Anstruther will
fall by the hand of one of them.
" If you ask me why those hideous posters have been
lately dotted about London, I can't tell you ; I feel quite
sure that they are some ingenious design of Anstruther's.
I feel quite sure also that that Nostalgo you picked up the
other night was here after Anstruther's blood, and that he
died at Anstruther's instigation. My only consolation is
the fact that my wife absolutely refused to break off
her engagement on the strength of my terrible distigure-
ment. It was a long time before I yielded, but yield I
did at length. And now that you know so much, perhaps.
you will be so good as to draw up the blinds, and let us
talk face to face; that is, of course, if you do not object
to "
Jack hastily disclaimed any objection. He drew the
blinds aside, and a flood of light poured into the room. It
was a little difficult to repress a shudder at first, but he
found himself presently talking to Barmouth as if his face
had been like those of other men.
“ You will find some cigarettes; this is my own room,"


164
The Yellow Face
Barmouth explained. “I furnished it more with an eye to
comfort than anything else.”
But Jack was not listening. He took up a cigarette
mechanically, and was gazing intently at a photograph in
a large silver frame standing on the mantelpiece. It was
the face of a woman; a dark melancholy face, with mourn-
ful eyes.
“Would you mind telling me who that is ?” Jack
asked.
“A sister of my wife's," Barmouth explained. “ It is
rather a sad story."
Jack said nothing. But the face looking into his own
was the face of Anstruther's servant, Serena.


CHAPTER XXIII
FACE TO FACE
It was perhaps fortunate for Jack that Lord Barmouth
appeared to be engrossed in his own painful thoughts. At
any rate he did not seem to notice that his youthful
visitor's gaze was fixed so intently upon the photograph.
So far as Jack could see, the picture had been taken some
years before, and had not that wild, defiant, yet half-sad
expression which marked Serena to-day. There was not
much time to think, but Jack rapidly made up his mind.
He would say nothing to Barmouth of his discovery, but
would open up the matter as delicately as possible with
Lady Barmouth. It was not a nice thing for a compara-
tive stranger to intrude upon sacred griefs like this, but
the discovery was so likely to lead to important results
that it would have been folly to hesitate. It was some
considerable time later before Jack left Lord Barmouth,
who shook him warmly by the hand, and implored him to
come again.
“ You can imagine what a lonely life mine is,” Bar-
mouth murmured; “my wife is devotion itself, but one
longs for the company of a man sometimes."
Jack promised sincerely enough that he would come
again and often. He had taken a great liking to the lonely
man who bore his cruel misfortunes so well. He had not
intended at present to worry Lady Barmouth with the re-
cent discovery, but she happened to be crossing the hall,
and looked upon Jack eagerly and curiously.
Jack was about to say something to Lady Barmouth,
when some one called her, and she turned away. Evi-
dently she had no intention to allow Masefield to leave the
house without satisfying herself as to the result of his
interview with Lord Barmouth. With this feeling upon
165


166
The Yellow Face
him, Jack lingered in the hall. He suddenly recollected
that he had left his gloves behind him, and returned for
them. He found Barmouth standing before the fireplace,
apparently lost in thought. Jack had to speak twice
before his host realized the fact that he was no longer
alone.
"I came back for my gloves," Jack explained. “I
left them on the little table behind there. I am sorry to
intrude upon you again, but since you have been so kind
to me - "
“On the contrary, it is you who have been so kind to
me," Barmouth said. “I am not sorry you came back,
because I have been thinking over the interview which we
have just concluded. I might have told you a great deal
more than I did ; indeed, I was perhaps unwise to be so
reticent. If you will come and see me again - ".
“I will come and see you as often as I can get an op-
portunity," Jack said warmly. “ Apart from the gratifica-
tion of my vulgar curiosity, I have been wonderfully enter-
tained by your experiences. I saw Lady Barmouth in the
hall just now, and I know that she is anxious to learn how
we got on together."
Jack went out again, with a feeling that he was more
and more drawn towards his unfortunate host. He lin-
gered in the hall for a moment gazing at the fine pictures
and the artistic arranging of the flowers, hoping that Lady
Barmouth would return. He had not long to wait, for
presently she came floating down the stairs again. There
was a pleased smile on her face.
“Oh, I am so glad you stayed so long," she said.
“My poor George must have enjoyed your society or he
would not have detained you. I am sure you got on very
well together."
"We got on very well indeed together," Jack explained.
“I have now a pretty shrewd idea of this Nostalgo busi-
ness. During my interview with your husband I made a
still more stupendous discovery."
“Something that affects my husband's case ?" Lady
Barmouth asked eagerly.


Face to Face
167
“I think it touches it very deeply indeed," Jack said
gravely. “May I intrude upon you for another five min-
utes ? Mind you, I have said nothing of this to Lord Bar-
mouth, because it seems to me to concern you alone.”
Lady Barmouth led the way back to the small drawing-
room again. Her eyes were fairly dancing with curiosity.
" It is about your sister," Jack said—“the sister whose
photograph stands on the mantelpiece in your husband's
room.”
“Oh, must we really go into that?" Lady Barmouth
asked, with a shade of coldness in her voice. "There are
matters so sacred that even the most sincere friend -
"Believe me, I am speaking under the strongest sense
of duty," Jack urged. “Nothing else would induce me to
speak. Lord Barmouth told me it was a very painful sub-
ject, but we must go into it.”
“It is a painful subject,” Lady Barmouth murmured.
“She was my youngest sister, and very dear to us all. I
do not say she had no faults; indeed, she had far too
many. But she was very lovable in spite of her headstrong
ways and her quick fits of passion. She never got on par-
ticularly well with my father, who all the same cared for
her very much indeed. She was sent at the age of seven-
teen from Southern Mexico, where we lived at that time,
to finish her education in London. I don't know why,
but it seemed to be assumed that she was the daughter of
very rich parents, and that in the course of time she would
inherit a great deal of money. Be that as it may, she con-
trived to fall head over heels in love with her music-mas-
ter, and they ran away together and got married. We
never quite knew the name of the man; however, it was
something quite foreign, and, judging from what happened
afterwards, probably was no more than an alias. My sis-
ter's letter to her father announcing her marriage was re-
turned to her unread, and she was given to understand
that she could no longer consider herself one of the family.
That sorry scoundrel who had brought so much unhappi-
ness on the poor girl's head basely deserted her, and from
that day to this I have seen nothing of the poor child."


168
The Yellow Face
“She did not write to you, she did not communicate
with you in any way?" Jack asked.
"I have just told you that I have never heard of or seen
the poor girl since. She was as proud as she was high-
spirited, and after what had happened would have died
rather than have appealed to any of us for assistance. But
why do you ask?"
Because I recognized in the portrait in question the
features of one who I see nearly every day of my life.
There can be no question about the matter at all, Lady
Barmouth-your sister has been for a long time Spencer
Anstruther's housekeeper."
" You astonish me; you move me more than words can
tell. My sister in the house of that man? Do you mean
to suggest for a moment - "
“ I am not suggesting anything whatever that is wrong,"
Jack said earnestly. “For some time past I have been
trying to make a study of the poor woman who calls her-
self Serena - "
“ That is my sister's second name," Lady Barmouth in-
terposed.
1. Yes! But I have not made much progress. It is
quite evident to me that your poor sister has had a terribly
stormy past. Not that her spirits are broken, for there
comes ever and again in her face the look of one who is
prepared to fight to the bitter end. All the same, she is
absolutely under the domination of Spencer Anstruther;
she watches his every movement; indeed, it is almost as
if he had hypnotized her. But that there is anything
wrong-oh, no, Anstruther simply regards your sister as
one of his creatures.".
“I am quite unnerved by all you have to tell me," Lady
Barmouth cried. “It has always been my prayer that my
poor sister and myself should meet again, because I, for
one, have never blamed her for that which, after all, is
more her misfortune than her fault. She was very young
at the time that she gave her heart into the keeping of that
scoundrel, very young and very romantic. And goodness


Face to Face
169
knows she paid enough for her folly. I must see her at
once. I will go with you - "
“Not to Anstruther's house," Jack protested. “Think
of the danger of it."
“But Mr. Anstruther merely knows me as Lady Bar-
mouth. He knows nothing of Lord Barmouth as Lord
Barmouth. We can easily assume that I came to ask the
character of a servant. Oh, do not let us wait! If you
only knew how anxious I am to see Serena again!"
Jack shrugged his shoulders and allowed the point to
pass. At any rate he suggested that Lady Barmouth should
possess her soul in patience a little longer. Usually the
hours between five and seven were spent by Anstruther at
his club, where he often indulged in a rubber of whist;
indeed, he was very regular in this respect. Jack ex-
pounded all this to Lady Barmouth, who listened to him
with more or less impatience.
"Let it be as you please,” she said. “I am afraid you
do not quite understand my feelings; still, you have been
so good and kind and patient all through this miserable
business that I am loth to do anything to mar your chances
of success. Come and have a cup of tea with me, and then
it will be time to start.”
It was a little after six before Jack and Lady Barmouth
set out in the direction of Panton Square. They came to
the house at length, and Jack rang the bell. Some little
time elapsed before there was any response, and Jack rang
again. He was getting slightly uneasy by this time; so
many things had happened lately that therefore it was pos-
sible that something equally strange might have recently
been enacted in Panton Square. He pulled the bell again,
this time furiously.
“It looks as if everybody was out," Lady Barmouth
suggested.
“And yet I fancy I can hear somebody," Jack said,
with his eye on the keyhole. “I am sure that I saw some-
body flit across the hall. Let us try again."
Another furious peal at the bell brought a halting foot-


170
The Yellow Face
step, as if dragged unwillingly in the direction of the door,
and then a voice inside faintly den anded to know who
was there.
"Who are you?" Jack asked-his fears had rendered
him a little impatient, “and what have you to be afraid
of? Please open the door. I tell you that ".
"Is that really you, Jack?" the voice inside said in
tones of deep relief. It was easy to detect that Claire was
the speaker now. “I will open the door for you at
once.''
There was a fumbling at the bolts and latch, and then
the heavy portal swung back. Claire's face was very pale,
her hands were trembling, and there was something like
terror in her eyes.
“I hope nothing wrong has happened ?" Jack said
anxiously.
"Well, no," Claire explained, “nothing what you
might call really wrong." All the same, she was holding
her hand to her heart like one who has run fast and far.
“ It was not on my account that I feared ; it was for
Serena's sake."
"Are you and Serena alone in the house?" Jack
asked.
" Absolutely. The other two maids have gone out for
the day, and, as my uncle is dining at his club, I did not
bother about a set dinner, and was going to have a small
dish sent up for myself. A few minutes ago Serena came
to me in a state of terrible agitation, saying that somebody
had called to see my guardian. Though he was assured
that Mr. Anstruther was out, and was not likely to return
before it was time to dress for dinner, the man persisted in
refusing to believe the statement. He pushed his way into
the hall, and locked the door behind him, saying that it
was his intention to search the house. He was so rude
and overbearing that Serena was naturally frightened, and
came to me. I hope you won't blame me unduly, but I
was as frightened as Serena herself. I summoned up
courage at length to face this man, but when I reached
the hall I found that he had unlocked the door again, and


Face to Face
171
had vanished. But not before he had been all over the
house."
" Was he rude, or did he use anything like violence ?"
Jack asked heatedly. “Oh, this sort of thing is abomi-
nable. Ask Serena to come here, and give me a description
of the fellow. Then I will go off at once, and place the
matter in the hands of the police."
So agitated and upset was Claire that she had entirely
overlooked the presence of Lady Barmouth, who stood in
the dim shadow of the hall listening to this amazing story.
She went off now in the direction of the kitchen, where
she seemed to be engaged in persuading the terrified
Serena to come forward. The latter came presently, with
a trembling, halting footstep, and Lady Barmouth shrank
closer against the wall. The electric light had not been
switched on yet, so that it was almost too dark to recog-
nize the features of Anstruther's housekeeper. Jack
rather wondered to see Serena so terribly upset. Broken
as she was by misfortune, and dominated as she was by
Anstruther's strong personality, she did not lack pluck and
spirit, as Jack had seen on more than one occasion.
"You seem to have been subjected to a rather unpleas-
ant experience," he said. “What class of man was the
fellow who insisted on pushing his way into the house
like this? A half-intoxicated workman, or some loafing
rascal - "
“Oh, nothing of the kind," Serena replied. She was
getting her voice well under control now. “The man
was dressed as well as yourself, Mr. Masefield. It was
not his appearance that frightened me in the least, at least
not his outward appearance. Nor was he in the least
abusive or violent."
“ But tell us what he looked like," Jack said impa-
tiently. “I want a description for the benefit of the
police.”
Serena seemed to hesitate for a moment, and a curious
expression passed like a shadow over her worn, sad face.
"Oh, you will not laugh at me, you will not make fun
of what I am going to say? It was not quite dark; in


172
The Yellow Face
fact, there was plenty of light when I opened the door for
that man. His hat was turned down, and his coat collar
was turned up. As the door was thrown open, he lifted
his hat to me with a natural courtesy that belongs to every
well-bred man. And then I saw his face. It was exactly
the same face as that.".
Serena broke off suddenly, as if her emotions were too
strong for her. The front door had not yet been closed ;
the strong flare of a great arc light lit up the hoarding
on the far side of the street. With a trenabling hand
Serena pointed to the central poster on the hoarding.
Jack started as he followed the direction of her shaking
finger.
- What !” he cried; “ Nostalgo! Another Nostalgo !
Do you mean to say that he has been here to-night?”.
" Yes," Serena said simply, “it is just as I have told
you."


CHAPTER XXIV
IN THE SQUARE
JACK said no more for the present. He closed the front
door quietly, not forgetting, however, to glance at the
great clock, and stopping to calculate that a good half-
hour must elapse before Anstruther returned. It would
have been a great misfortune indeed if the latter had come
home at that moment. In a mechanical kind of way
Serena turned into the dining-room, where she proceeded
to pull down the blinds and switch on the lights. At a
sign from Jack, Lady Barmouth remained where she was
for the moment, and Masefield, together with Claire, en-
tered the dining-room.
“I am bound to ask you a few questions,” he said,
turning to Serena. “For instance, I have yet to learn why
the walking image of that poster should have frightened
you so terribly.”
“It was Adolpho returned from the grave," Serena
murmured. Apparently she was talking to herself. “Be-
yond all question poor Adolpho -
She paused in some confusion, and looked guiltily from
Claire to Jack. The latter was not slow to take up the
point.
"So you have actually seen the man before ?” he de-
manded. "Well, we will not discuss that at present. A
little later on perhaps I shall ask you to speak more freely.
Meanwhile, I may as well tell you that I came here to-
night with a lady desirous of seeing you.”.
Serena was alert and eager in a moment. Jack could
see that the fighting look had returned to her face ; her
eyes dilated strangely. She seemed to guess by some
subtle instinct exactly what was going to happen.
173


In the Square
175
the circumstances. Jack, looking at Claire, noted that
the tears were also in her eyes.
“What a strangely pathetic thing," Claire murmured.
“ How did it come about, Jack ?".
Jack explained the story of the photograph, but Claire
was hardly listening. It seemed such a strange, sad story
to her, this pathetic meeting between the two sisters.
“But you don't suppose that Mr. Anstruther knows?"
Claire asked. “You do not imagine for a moment that
he is aware of the fact that Serena is Lady Barmouth's
sister ?”
“I hope to goodness no," Jack exclaimed. " But I
don't see how the thing could be possible. To begin with,
the sisters are not in the least alike, and in addition to this
Serena had not the least idea that Lady Barmouth had
married. What I am most afraid of now is that Anstruther
should come back and discover those two women together."
Claire nodded gravely, with one eye on the clock. It
was only a matter of minutes now when Anstruther would
return. He was dining at his club to-night, Claire ex-
plained, with Mr. Carrington, at eight o'clock, and as it
was now a quarter past seven, there was not much time for
him to dress and get back to St. James's Street again.
"In that case I must intrude myself upon those two
ladies," Jack said firmly. “I will put Lady Barmouth in
a cab and send her home. It will be quite easy for the
sisters to arrange a meeting at Lady Barmouth's house.
Keep Anstruther out of the dining-room if he comes in.”
Jack strode resolutely across the hall, and placed the
matter tersely and vigorously before the sisters. “ It
would never do,” he explained, “ for Anstruther to find
you here at this moment."
Serena's eyes were swollen with weeping. There were
the deep marks of tears upon her cheeks. Lady Bar-
mouth's worldly training had stood her in better stead,
but she also carried traces of emotion which could not be
wiped out in a moment.
“I am going to put you in a cab at once," Jack said.
“ Anstruther may be here any instant, and you can imagine


176
The Yellow Face
how necessary it is to keep him in the dark. Besides, you
can easily arrange a meeting in a safer atmosphere than
this."
With a brief remark to the effect that she would com-
municate with Serena again, Lady Barmouth left the
room, and permitted Jack to escort her to a cab. The
latter breathed more freely as the clatter of the horses'
hoofs died away. He ran back quickly to the house again
to give a few last words of instruction to Claire.
“You look all right now," he said, “but Serena's case
is entirely different. Take my advice, and send her up to
her room. If you are not going to dine in the proper
sense of the word, there is no reason why Serena should
appear again till Anstruther has gone to his club. And I
will go, too; I don't want our worthy host to know that I
have been here this evening."
Jack went off thoughtfully in the direction of the square.
It was a particularly good-class neighborhood, and gen-
erally very quiet at this time of the evening. The half-
hour past seven had just struck from a neighboring clock.
In most of the dining-rooms on the north side of the square
brilliant lights demonstrated the fact that folk were at din-
ner. With the exception of a solitary policeman nobody
was in sight. As is usual with the majority of London
squares, the place was none too well lighted, and there
were just sufficient lamps to throw the shadows of the gar-
den in deeper relief. It had often occurred to Jack how
easy crime and violence would be in circumstances like
these.
Jack's imagination was working freely now; indeed, it
would have been odd if his brain had not been screwed to
a high pitch by the events of the day. Coming towards
him now, swinging along at a good pace, was a tall, slim
figure, which seemed familiar to Masefield. As the figure
paused under a lamp to look at his watch, Jack could see
the figure was that of Anstruther. He congratulated him-
self upon the fact that he had got away from Panton Square
before Anstruther returned. He crossed the road in a
casual sort of way, and passed along under the shadow of


In the Square
177
the houses so that Anstruther had no idea how he was be-
ing watched.
The latter paused again, just by the entrance to the
square gardens, the gates of which had not yet been locked,
though it was considerably past the hour when the gardens
were closed to the public. Anstruther stood there as if
debating something in his mind, then suddenly another
figure came like a lightning flash from inside the garden
gates, and fell upon Anstruther with terrible swiftness.
So sudden and unexpected was it that Jack could hardly
believe the evidence of his own eyes. Anstruther gave
one gurgling cry, his hands went up as if imploring as-
sistance, then he settled down to a fray which could only
end in one fashion. It was impossible where Jack stood
for him to make out anything more than the mere outline
of the man who had so unexpectedly fallen upon Anstruther.
But there was no mistaking the grimness of his intention :
there was sinister design in every movement of the body.
This was no common square thief, intent upon a paltry
meed of plunder, but a man who had deliberately picked
out his prey with the intention of mauling it to the death.
All this passed as it were in the twinkling of an eye.
Jack knew now that he would have to pull himself together
and advance to the rescue. As he flew across the road he
heard in a mechanical sort of fashion the heavy footstep
of a policeman clanging on the quiet pavement some little
way off. Here, at any rate, was aid fairly close at hand.
But Jack was not the kind of man to wait in an emergency
like this. Before he could cross the road he saw that
Anstruther was prostrate on the pavement, with his as-
sailant kneeling cat-like upon his chest. The man was
evidently fumbling for something, probably a weapon of
the noiseless kind, for Jack could see his right hand work-
ing in a hip pocket. With a headlong leap Jack fell upon
the would be assassin, and clutched him by the throat.
At the same time a police whistle shrilled.
But the man kneeling on Anstruther's chest was not
taken aback for an instant. With a quick upward motion
of his body he pitched Jack clean over his head, and, roll-


178
The Yellow Face
ing off Anstruther's chest, darted like a snake into the
gardens. By this time three policemen were upon the
scene.
“No, I don't think he is hurt much," Jack explained,
as Anstruther scrambled to his feet, and gazed wildly
around him. “No damage done, eh?".
Anstruther explained that he was none the worse for his
adventure. He seemed to be under the impression that
he had been the victim of some loafer's cupidity. He
could give no description of his assailant ; indeed, he said
that he had no idea now but to get away and keep an im-
portant appointment. He tossed his card over to the
police, and went coolly down the road.
“We can get that fellow all the same," Jack said. " He
is in the gardens somewhere. Suppose you three men stand
round the square while I go inside and drive him out. One
of you lend me a lantern."
The quest was by no means a long one. At the fourth
cast of the lantern Jack descried his man crouching down
under a belt of laurels. He reached forward and dragged
the fellow up by the neck.
“I am a bigger man than you are," Jack said, “Do
you come quietly, or are you going to take it fighting ?"
By way of reply the man raised his hat; his face was
exposed.
" I am not going to take it at all," he said. “You will
be good enough to put the police off my scent and have a
cab handy so that I can get away without being seen. We
have met before, sir."
It was a fitting crown to a day of surprises. For the
man who stood before Jack was the same Nostalgo he had
conveyed in the guise of a dead body to Shannon Street
police station.


180
The Yellow Face
There was no doubt whatever that this was one and the
same Nostalgo. There was a certain mark in the shape
of a crescent scar on his chin, the same scantiness of eye-
brow, and the same peculiar droop of the lids.
“I am quite satisfied that you are the same man," Jack
said.
“ That's all right," the stranger cried, eagerly. “Of
course, I know quite well that you are deeply interested
in this Nostalgo mystery, and good fortune has placed
you in the position to find out all about it. Get rid of
those fellows, and call me a hansom. As a guarantee of
good faith, here is my card. The address leaves a great
deal to be desired, but I assure you my quarters are a great
deal more comfortable than the locality would convey. If
you have not yet dined, perhaps you would not mind par-
taking of my bread and salt.”
Jack did not hesitate a moment longer. It was, per-
haps, playing it rather low down on the police, but it
seemed almost a criminal folly to waste so golden an op-
portunity as this. If the man had been given in custody
for the murderous assault upon Spencer Anstruther, there
would be long and tedious investigations, which would not
only delay the solution of the trouble, but perhaps scare
away others who were more or less party to the mystery.
After all said and done, Anstruther was not a penny the
worse for his adventure, and no harm could be done in
defeating the so-called ends of justice.
“ You stay where you are," Jack said, “and I will see
what I can do for you. The police are on three sides of
the square, leaving this side open to me. It is only a
matter of a little patience, and the thing is accomplished.”
Jack emerged cautiously into the road and looked about
him. So far as he could see the street was deserted,
though he could hear the constables making signs to one
another on the other three sides of the square. Whilst he
was still debating in his mind what to do, an empty han-
som crawled towards him. Jack ran back and signed to
the driver not to stop.
“ You can earn a sovereign if you like,” he said.


182
The Yellow Face
to proceed unmolested to No. 14, where he asked for
Mr. James Smith.
A surly-looking porter, evidently considerably the worse
for drink, replied that Smith lived on the fifth floor.
“Not that I have ever seen him," he growled, pro-
pitiated by Jack's half-crown; “sort of secretive chap,
only goes out after dark and all that sort of thing.
Shouldn't wonder if the police came and walked off with
him any day; but that's no business of mine, so long as
he pays his rent regularly and don't give no trouble.
Keeps a couple of servants, he does; but they ain't Eng-
lish, and we don't have no truck with them."
Unenlightened by this fragment of a biography, Jack
made his way up the greasy staircase. There must have
been scores of families living in the self-same house, for
Jack could hear the cries of children, and an occasional
oath from some angry man. He came at length to the
fifth floor, the outer door of which was closed, and on this
he knocked. He knocked a third time before the door
was cautiously opened, and the sallow, almond-eyed face
of a Chinaman peered out. Apparently the Celestial was
satisfied as to his visitor, for he merely bowed and stood
aside so that Jack might enter. Then the door was closed
again and locked. There was another door at the end of
a dingy passage, the walls of which had not been papered
for years; but a passage through this revealed a different
state of affairs entirely.
It was idle to enquire by what magic this thing had been
brought about, but here, in this home of wretchedness and
desolation, was a luxurious and comfortable home. In
what appeared to be the hall was a remarkably fine speci-
men of Persian carpet. There were Moorish hangings,
luxurious lounges and divans—the whole illuminated by
a shaded lamp which depended from the ceiling. Jack
could see other rooms beyond, quite as luxuriously fur-
nished. In one of them a table had been laid out with a
fair white cloth, and on the snowy damask appeared to be
what was a perfectly appointed meal.
Jack could see the shaded lights falling on the flowers


On the Track
183
and silver, upon gold-necked bottles, and ruby wines in
cut-glass decanters. A negro dressed like an English but-
ler came silently from the room, carrying a silver coffee
service in his hand. It was a fairy kind of dream, coming
as it did upon the edge of stern reality. Jack would have
been surprised had he not been long past that emotion.
As it was, he allowed the Chinese servant to relieve him
of his hat and coat, after which he was escorted to a small
room at the back, where his queer host was smoking some-
thing quite exceptional in the way of a cigar.
“I thought you would come,” he said. It was only
when he stood up under the full light of the lamps that
Jack could see what a fine figure of a man he was. " Sit
down and try one of these cigars-dinner will not be ready
for quite a quarter of an hour. You are rather surprised
to find anything of this kind here, eh?"
"Well, rather," Jack said drily; "you hardly expect
eastern palaces in the slums. I won't be vulgarly curious
and ask why a man of your apparent means prefers to take
up his quarters here, but what I want to know is this-
how on earth did you manage to get all this luxury and
refinement here without arousing the suspicions of your
neighbors ? There are men-ay, and women, too-un-
der the same roof who would murder you cheerfully, if
only to get hold of your silver coffee service."
“Oh, that's explained easily enough,” Nostalgo cried.
“My two servants are very faithful to me; they practically
know no English, and when they go out they are dressed
very very differently to what you see them now. As to
the rest, we smuggled the things here a few at a time, and
we did the papering and upholstering between us. As to
why I choose to live here-ah, that is quite another matter."
The stranger finished with a stern abruptness that told
Jack pretty plainly he was not expected to ask any further
questions on that head.
“You will know more about me presently," he said.
“ Meanwhile, I dare say you are curious to know what
brought me lying apparently dead near Panton Square,
and how my body disappeared from the police station. Of


184
The Yellow Face
course, you suspect Anstruther of being at the bottom of
the whole business; in fact, I presume Lord Barmouth
told you all about that."
Here was another surprise, but Jack did not express it
in words. He merely nodded, as if he took the whole
thing for granted.
« We will let that pass,” he said. “But why did An-
struther desire to have you put out of the way like that?"
“Well, it was either Anstruther or myself," the stranger
said coolly. “ To give you some idea of the feelings I en-
tertain towards Anstruther, I will ask you to kindly look
at that craotint over the mantelpiece. You may not be-
lieve it, but that picture represents me before I came under
the baneful influence of the man we are discussing. Will
you please look at it carefully?".
It was barely possible to recognize in those handsome
features the almost repulsive ugliness of Nostalgo. Per-
haps he read something of this passing through Jack's
mind, for he smiled with exceeding bitterness.
" Yes, I don't think I need much justification. You
know all about that business in Mexico, but Lord Bar-
mouth was not the only victim. I also was left penniless
and mutilated, and I swore that if ever fortune favored
me, I would be even with Anstruther before I died. For-
tune has favored me, and I am here with one set purpose
before me.”
“ To kill Spencer Anstruther," Jack cried.
“Oh, dear, no," Nostalgo said ; “ do you suppose that
I can think of no more terrible revenge than that ? When
you saw me holding that scoundrel to-night I had quite
another purpose in my mind. If everything had gone well
with me, London would have been startled to-morrow to
hear of the strange disappearance of Spencer Anstruther.
But you were good enough to prevent me, and I cannot
blame you for that. But I am talking about myself,
though you would like to hear more of other matters. I
promised to tell you how I got away from Shannon Street
police station. I expect my case puzzled the doctor, did
it not ?"


On the Track
185
“ You puzzled him exceedingly," Jack said. "How
did you manage it?"
"I was shot in a peculiar manner, and with a peculiar
weapon," Nostalgo explained. “The whole device was
an invention of Anstruther's—in fact, I saw it in operation
in Mexico. It is a kind of air gun arrangement that pro-
pels a sort of poisoned bullet encased in celluloid. The
bullet penetrates a part not necessarily vital and dissolves
there. There is practically no wound, the virulent poison
in the bullet spreads all over the system and speedily does
its work. But in my instance the shots fired were not
fatal, for the simple reason that I am wearing a thin coat
of highly-tempered chain mail."
“But the doctor did not notice that," Jack exclaimed.
Nostalgo made no reply for a moment; he seemed to be
thinking about something else. His varying moods had
not been lost upon Jack. He was stern and silent, then
again happy and cheerful, and once more grim and sar-
donic. If he did not care to speak now, Jack had no de.
sire to press him. He felt quite sure that the stranger
had taken a liking to him, or he would not be enjoying
his present novel situation. Nostalgo broke the silence
at length as if he had suddenly realized that he was not
alone.
6. You have not traveled much, I presume ?” he asked.
"No," Jack replied. “ Only the usual Continental
trips and all that kind of thing. Mine has been a very
prosaic life up to now, and I have never found myself in
the heart of a great adventure before. Now it seems to
me as if I were going to have erough mystery to last me
forever."
" Ah, as Shakespeare says, “There are more things in
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.'
Had you lived my life, and knew the world as I know it,
you would not be astonished at anything. Probably if
you had read what I have told you in a novel, of the sen-
sational kind, you would have pitched the book aside with
a laugh of contempt. And now, confess it, have you ever
heard before of a decadent modern man walking about in


186
The Yellow Face
a mail shirt and being plugged by mysterious bullets, and
all this in the streets of London ?"
"Well, I confess that it does seem a little strange and
outlandish," Jack admitted. “But when I come to think
of it, and when I look at you, I can no longer hesitate.
Some men are born for picturesqueness and adventure, and
you are one of them. But all the same the doctor was ut-
terly deceived."


CHAPTER XXVI
SERENA AGAIN
NOSTALGO smiled and shook his head. The doctor had
not made an examination of him at all; and he explained
he had simply given him a cursory glance and pronounced
that the whole thing had been fatal. No doubt a thorough
examination would have taken place later on, only that
the victim had returned to his senses, and, having his own
reasons for secrecy, had escaped by means of the overhead
light in the mortuary.
“ There you have the whole thing in a nutshell," he
concluded. “It was fortunate for me that I knew exactly
how to get away, for the simple reason that I had been
keeping a close eye upon Anstruther's movements, and
knew all about that hiding place in Montrose Place. To
a certain extent I made my escape through Montrose
Place. There is only one thing I find that is difficult of
explanation. Now I know for a fact that Anstruther was
otherwise engaged on the night of that murderous attack
upon me. Who, then, was it who fired the bullet ?".
"I think it is just possible I can enlighten you there,"
Jack said. “Did you ever chance to hear of a man called
Padini pro
The name conveyed nothing apparently to Nostalgo,
who rose at the same moment and suggested that dinner
was possibly ready. It was a well-served meal, cold for
the most part, Nostalgo explaining that anything in the
way of elaborate cookery had for obvious reasons to be
done off the premises. It was possible to talk freely be-
fore the servants, who seemed to be entirely in their
master's confidence.
“ Tell me about this Padini whose name you mentioned
187


188
The Yellow Face
just now," the host said. “So far as I know, I have
never heard the name before.”
“ That is exceedingly likely, considering that Padini is
only one of the many aliases. The man I mentioned is
an exceedingly fine violinist-clean shaven and artistic-
looking, and perhaps just a little effeminate. On the stage
he looks rather boyish, but in private life it is his whim
to assume a moustache closely resembling that of the
German Emperor. I know this as a fact, because I have
met him wearing his moustache at the house of a man
called Carrington-a rich bachelor banker who has a very
elaborate establishment in Piccadilly."
A heavy scowl crossed the face of Nostalgo.
“ So you know that sorry blackguard, do you ?” he
asked. “Upon my word, Mr. Masefield, you seem to have
mixed up with a rare lot of scoundrels.''
Jack was politely incredulous; he had never heard any-
thing to the detriment of Mr. Carrington, who was partner
in a well-known City bank. Still, he remembered now
that he had heard Carrington's name mentioned by An-
struther that time he was hiding in Montrose Place with
Rigby.
“Oh, I am perfectly certain of my facts," Nostalgo
cried. “It may be news to you, but Carrington's bank
is on the verge of collapse. I know that, because they
have twenty thousand pounds of mine in their hands. I
was acquainted with Carrington before I went to Mexico,
and as good fortune favored me, I sent a great deal of
my earnings to Carrington for investment. When I
came home I called upon him one night and explained
my altered appearance. He appeared to be fairly satisfied
till I asked for my securities. Then the rascal showed
himself in his true colors. He pretended to believe that
I was an impudent impostor; he laughed my strange story
to scorn, and refused to part with anything until I could
prove my identity beyond question. He knew perfectly
well that at the time I could do nothing of the sort, and
there the matter stands for the present. I suppose that
Carrington is a friend of Anstruther's ?".


Serena Again
189
Jack explained that Anstruther and Carrington were
dining together at the former's club at that self-same
moment. Nostalgo nodded, as if the information was not
displeasing to him.
- Very good," he cried. “Everything is going our
way now. I will get you to accompany me on a little
expedition presently. And as to this man you call Padini,
I think I have a pretty good notion of his real identity.
And now take some more of that wine, and let us discuss
matters generally, apart from this wretched business.
Let me try and make you forget what a physical wreck
I am.”
A more entertaining companion Jack could not have
wished for. His host seemed to have been everywhere
and seen everything; he was a thorough citizen of the
world, and a charming companion to boot. Jack was
astonished to look up presently and see that it was already
past eleven o'clock. Nostalgo followed his glance and
smiled. He rang the bell and ordered coffee to be served
at once.
" Just one more cigar and a liquor," he suggested,
" and then we must be off. Meanwhile, there are one or
two things I must do in regard to my personal appearance.
Like the modern plain young woman, I am compelled
occasionally to resort to a beauty doctor. It is a case of
where Nature fails Art steps in."
So saying, Nostalgo passed the cigar box across the
table and sauntered from the room. It was some half-
hour before he returned, and when he did so he was
changed almost beyond recognition. At the same time,
the almost hideous ugliness had only given way to another
form of repulsive feature. Nostalgo smiled sadly as he
seemed to follow Jack's thoughts.
" It is only a change after all," he said; "for change
is sometimes necessary. If you have quite finished, we
are going to walk down as far as St. James's Street, where
I will get you to go into Anstruther's club, the Salisbury,
and ascertain if he and Carrington are still there. You
can easily make an excuse to do that.”


190
The Yellow Face
“ As it happens, there is no occasion to do anything of
the kind," Jack said. “I am a member of the Salisbury
Club. I will go into the dining-room and see if those
men are still there ; and if they have already gone, I will
try and ascertain where. Come along."
The Salisbury Club was reached at length, and Jack
entered, followed by his companion. There was no reason
why the latter should not come into the club, Jack urged.
With his hat pulled down over his eyes nobody would
recognize him or note anything peculiar in his appearance.
The club was fairly crowded by this time, for the
theatres had begun to empty, and members were trooping
in the direction of the smoking and card rooms. The
dining-room was still comparatively full, for though dinner
was practically a thing of the past, a great many suppers
had already been served. As Jack glanced carelessly
about the room, he noticed Anstruther and Carrington
seated at a table at the top. There was a third man with
them, who had apparently just come in, for his opera cape
was still about his shoulders. Jack touched his companion
on the arm.
" There our men are," he whispered, " and judging
from the amount of wine upon the table, I should think
there they are likely to stay. We are fortunate, too, in
another direction. Please take note of that man in the
opera cape—that is the man Padini. Perhaps you can
tell me if you have ever seen him before."
Nostalgo gave a queer and dry chuckle, and Jack
could see that his eyes were burning under the edge of
his hat.
“You are quite right about our being in luck," he said
hoarsely. "So you want to know if I am acquainted with
the little man in the opera cape. I know the scoundrel
perfectly. It seems to me that all the scores I have to
pay are going to be wiped off in London. Now I think
we will get on our way.”
Nostalgo strode away as if he had quite made up his
mind what to do. Once outside, he turned off in the
direction of Piccadilly, walking so rapidly that Jack had


Serena Again
191
some considerable difficulty in keeping up with him. The
man had evidently something on his mind, for he was
muttering to himself as if he had entirely forgotten his
companion. He came out of his brown study presently,
and laughed a laugh of grim amusement.
“I am a little mad at times," he said, in explanation
of his queer conduct ; " but you must not mind that.
You have behaved exceedingly well to me, and I am
taking you entirely into my confidence. You asked me
just now if I knew Padini. I explained to you that I
knew him very well indeed, but not under that name.
He used to be with Anstruther all the time that the latter
was in Mexico. Not that he is the class of man to care
much for the rough life we led out there, because he is
physically a great coward, though his cunning and craft
are equal to those of his master. We knew him out
there for a very skilled performer on the violin, but I
never expected that he would blossom out into a leading
platform artist. I should have thought that the fellow
was too lazy and too casual to tie himself down to a
settled programme. But I dare say it is all part of some
scheme of Anstruther's.".
“That I am absolutely certain about," Jack said.
“ Seeing that you have been so candid with me, I will be
equally candid with you, and tell you something very
strange. It has to do with Padini and his violin."
Jack proceeded to explain at length the apparently
strange coincidence of the items on Padini's concert pro-
gramme and their simultaneous playing in Anstruther's
study. It was a somewhat complicated story, and Nos-
talgo did not quite take it in at first. When he thoroughly
grasped the situation, he was grimly pleased to pay a high
compliment to Anstruther's ingenuity.
"I think I can grasp the meaning of it," he said. “If
Anstruther ever found himself in a tight corner-and he is
very likely to before long—he has a magnificent alibi.
But here we are ; just wait till I get my key out."
To Jack's great surprise Nostalgo paused before the front
door of Carrington's chambers, and proceeded to fit the


192
The Yellow Face
key in the latch as if he were the master of the premises.
Very coolly he pushed the door back and bade Jack
enter.
“But this is something like burglary," the latter pro-
tested.
“ Burglary or not, we are going in all the same," Nos-
talgo growled. “You will see presently something that
will surprise you. But stop--surely there is some one
coming down the hall."
The hall light was a very dim one, so that it was impos-
sible for the moment to determine the identity of the
woman who came down the stairway towards them. She
carried in her hand a candle, which had the effect of keep-
ing her face half in shadow. It was evident that the
woman had heard the key in the door, and had come down
to see if her master required anything.
Satisfied that she was mistaken, she set the candle down
on the table. Her features were quite plain now-the sad
yet defiant face of Serena. A grasp like a vice was laid
on Jack's arm, and his companion's voice whispered
hoarsely in his ear.
“Great heaven !” Nostalgo said. “And she is here.
Oh, the villainy of it, the villainy of it!"


CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE SMOKING-ROOM
The woman looked about her as if half expecting to see
somebody there who had come with evil intent. Jack
could not fail to notice the extreme nervousness and agita-
tion of her face. She was no longer quiet and subdued,
as he had been accustomed to see her in Panton Square;
she seemed as if some force had dragged her there against
her will. She advanced towards the table, and, taking up
a hat and coat lying there, proceeded to put them on as if
she had finished her task whatever it was. If anything
had frightened her, it was not, at any rate, the suggestion
of burglars, for there was nothing of physical fear to be
detected about her.
So far as Jack could discern, his companion appeared to
be equally disconcerted. But there would be plenty of
time presently to learn what Nostalgo knew about Serena.
Events were moving rapidly now, and Jack felt that he
would have plenty to tell Rigby later on. They stood
aside till Serena had left the house, making sure that the
latch was down, and that no one could enter the premises
without a key. Jack turned to Nostalgo with an interroga-
tive glance.
" The more we go into this thing," he said, "the more
do we find one mystery piled upon another. Do you know
that unfortunate lady ?”
“If you do not mind, I would much rather you did
not press that question," Nostalgo said, coldly. “I am
going to help you all I can; I am going to do everything
in my power both for your sake and mine; but there are
some things which will not bear discussion, and this is one
of them."
193


194.
The Yellow Face
Jack turned away, feeling just a little hurt and disap-
pointed. He would have found it difficult to say why,
but he had taken a strange liking to the man by his side,
perhaps because the man was suffering more from terrible
misfortune than from his own imprudence.
"We will let it stand over for the present," he said,
" but to be more candid than you are, I am greatly inter-
ested in that poor woman. I have known her for a long
time now, and, as a novelist, I am bound to say that she
greatly fascinates me. She always strikes me as a woman
who has been tamed-she is so like a performing lion or
tiger, if you will permit me the simile."
“I think I know what you mean," Nostalgo said. “The
class of animal you speak of paces restlessly about its cage,
a picture of moody discontent and more or less physical
fear. And then the time comes when all the old savage
instincts burst forth, and years of cruel treatment are
avenged in the course of a moment."
“And so it would be with Serena," Jack said. “I have
seen her cower and tremble before her master; I have seen
her hand him a knife in the humblest possible fashion.
And then I have seen her hands clench on the handle, and
a gleam come into her eyes-on more than one occasion I
have half expected to see her lean over and cut her master's
throat from ear to ear. After this, perhaps, you may be
disposed to say more on the subject?'
“We have never met, we have never been introduced,"
Nostalgo explained ; " but I know who she is and all about
her just the same. Do not press me more at present; the
secret is not entirely my own. I can only tell you this : it
was a great shock to me to meet that unfortunate lady to-
night. But perhaps you know who she is?”
“I know perfectly well who she is," Jack said, “though
the knowledge has come to me quite recently. Up to a
day or two ago I regarded her in the prosaic light of An-
struther's housekeeper. She has always interested me,
because she has always seemed to me to be a kind of wild
animal who has been cleverly tamed. I have seen her like
a tiger ready to spring; I have seen the lurking demon


In the Smoking-Room
195
of passion in her eyes, as if she could destroy Anstruther
and rejoice in the deed. And then a word from him or a
glance, and she has cowered as timidly as the wife of the
verie it bully in the world."
“But that isn't telling me who she is,” Nostalgo said,
impatiently.
Well, she is Lady Barmouth's sister, to begin with,”
Jack said. “Now, perhaps, you may be inclined to be
more communicative.”
Nostalgo shook his head in a sorrowful manner, and
proceeded o lead the way up-stairs. It was not lost upon
Jack that his companion seemed to know his way about
the house just as one would who had lived there for some
time. He even seemed to know where to lay his hand
upon each electric switch; in fact, his familiarity with the
surroundings was apparent to the meanest understanding.
“One more word before we leave the subject,” Jack
said. “I showed you to-night the man who calls himself
Padini. You recognized him as a man whom you had
known in Mexico, and you left me to understand that he
was as great a scoundrel as Anstruther, only that he lacked
the necessary courage to carry his schemes into effect.
Would it surprise you to know that this Padini is the hus-
band of the poor woman who has just gone out?”.
Nostalgo shook his head with the air of a man who is not
hearing anything for the first time. As he had intimated
before, the secret was not his own, and he showed no in-
clination to go into the matter now. He led the way to
the first landing, from which the living-rooms branched
off. Here was the fine, spacious hall where Jack had found
himself on the night he had met Rigby there; the big
ferns and palms were still scattered about; the evidences
of luxury were plain. Only a rich man could have occu-
pied so fine a suite of apartments. Nostalgo smiled as all
these objects of art and luxury met his eye.
"All is not gold that glitters," he said; "in fact,
nothing that glitters is gold. All this kind of thing would
be calculated to impress any client who came along, but
the British public is getting to understand the value of


196
The Yellow Face
outside show. Let me see this used to be the drawing-
room in the old days, when - "
Nostalgo flicked up the lights, and there, bathed
brilliantly by the flashing rays, was a room that would not
have disgraced a palace. Carrington was a man of taste
and feeling; his pictures were good, and his china would
have fetched much money at Christie's. The lights were
down again, and Nostalgo walked away in the direction
of the dining-room. He might have been some con-
temptuous servant displaying his master's treasures to the
admiring eye of a colleague. Everywhere the foot sank
deeply into velvety carpets. Many fine sets of armor
graced the corridor. There were one or two pictures of
price here, also ; a Corot, a dainty little Meissonier, a
sketch or two from the brush of same other modern
painters. Deej ly interested as he was in the adventure,
Jack did not fail to note and do justice to Carrington's
taste.
“A whited sepulchre," Nostalgo murmured. “It is a
poor jewel, after all, that lives in this perfect setting.
Now, here is the dining-room. What do you think of it-
old oak and old blue china with Flemish pictures of the
best school ? Elegant, is it not? You need not wonder
why the women run after Carrington. But we will give
them something to talk about presently."
With the assured step of one who knows every inch of
the way, Nostalgo moved on to a small apartment behind
the dining-room. This was fitted in the form of a smok-
ing-room, with deep and cozy armchairs and comfortable
divans against the Moorish walls. The whole thing was
Moorish, from the decorations on the walls and the
wonderful brass lamps depending from the painted ceiling.
At the far end of the room were two double stained glass
doors leading into a conservatory. The warmth here was
grateful, and seemed to touch the senses drowsily. As to
the rest, the conservatory was filled with masses of grace-
ful feathery palms and ferns, beyond which was tier upon
tier of red geraniums. The whole effect was wonderfully
pleasing and artistic, and Jack did not hesitate to say so.


In the Smoking-Room
197
Nostalgo was not so enthusiastic.
“I wasn't thinking so much about that,” he said drily.
“ I was regarding this little garden more in the light of a
hiding place. You and I are going to play the eaves-
dropper, my friend. It is not a congenial occupation, I
know; but there is precious little of anything congenial
about this business. Carrington will be here presently,
and probably Anstruther will accompany him.".
“You are a bit of a detective in your way," Jack
smiled.
“The conclusion is only what any one would call obvi-
ous," Nostalgo replied. “In the first place, all the
servants have gone to bed, or that poor woman whom we
saw down-stairs would not have been so careful to see that
the door could not be opened without a latch-key. On the
table behind you is a big silver salver with two glasses, a
couple of syphons of soda-water, and a spirit-stand.
What other conclusion do you come to than that Carring-
ton is returning presently, and is bringing a friend with
him?"
“I quite follow you," Jack said, “ but there is one thing
I don't understand. How is it that you can find your way
about this house in so familiar a manner?”
“Ah, that is not so obvious,” Nostalgo replied. “And
yet the explanation is perfectly simple. Before I went to
Mexico I was a friend of Carrington's. In those days his
father was still alive, and he had not succeeded to so large
a share of the business. As a matter of fact, Carrington
and myself lived here together. He frequently discussed
with me the improvements he would make here when once
he was in a position to do so. The place where we are
standing now used to be my dressing-room."
It seemed to Jack that Carrington must have been a cool
hand indeed, and he suggested something of this to
Nostalgo.
“Cool with the courage of despair," the latter said.
" The night I came home and called on Carrington here,
I thought he would have had a fit of apoplexy. Dis-
figured as I am, I am certain that he recognized me, but


198
The Yellow Face
he was not slow to take advantage of my misfortunes.
Directly he had recovered himself he became painfully
polite, though he refused to acknowledge me as his
quondam friend. You can quite see the point of that—so
long as I could not prove my identity, he was able to keep
me out of my property. But we have already discussed
that point. And now you know why I am so familiar with
the house, and how it comes about that I have a latch-key
to fit the front door.”
Nostalgo was apparently prepared to say more, only his
quick hearing detected a suspicious sound below. He
strode swiftly across the room, and switched out the light
that had illuminated the room and the conservatory. It
was an easy matter to find the hiding place amidst that
tangle of ferns and flowers, and the two had hardly done
so before the smoking-room door opened and Carrington
came in, closely followed by Anstruther and Padini. The
latter seemed to be terribly put out about something, for
he flung his hat and coat upon the floor and dropped into
a chair with an attitude of defiance.
" It is all very well for you," he exclaimed heatedly.
“We do all the work and take all the risks, and you walk
off with the profit. I tell you it is absolutely dangerous
to work a scheme like ours from the Great Metropolitan
Hotel.”
There was a sneer on Anstruther's face as he helped
himself to a cigarette and poured out a carefully-moderated
dose of whiskey and soda.
“ You little rascal," he said. He had the air of a man
who, having tamed lions, was now contemptuously engaged
in subduing less noble animals. “ If you talk to me like
this I will let you down altogether. You cannot injure
me, but I can ruin you, body and soul. Go to your kennel,
you hound.”
Padini cowered before the flashing anger in Anstruther's
eyes, and he muttered something to himself that might
have been an apology; but the listeners were a little too
far away to hear.
" It is all very well for you," Padini whimpered. “You


In the Smoking-Room
199
can call me a coward if you like-I am. It is not like you
to run any risks at all. So long as I am at the Great
Metropolitan Hotel, so sure is there danger.".
"Send him off about his business," Carrington growled.
“Why did you allow him to follow us here at all? He
ought to have been in his own room by this time carrying
on his share of the programme.”
“Well, give me a programme,” Padini said, with some
show of spirit. “How am I to know what Anstruther
wants unless he tells me beforehand ? Is it to be nothing
but Chopin to-night ?".
In the same way that one humors a spoiled child,
Anstruther took a note-book from his pocket and jotted a
few names upon it.
“I think that will about do,” he said. “Start with the
Grand Polonaise,' and take the • Fantasie in F' after-
wards; then stick steadily to the programme I have
marked on that sheet of paper."
Padini rose obediently enough now, and donned his hat
and coat. He would have helped himself to a small
modicum of refreshment, only Anstruther put him sternly
aside.
“ None of that," he said, “ and not one spot of anything
till you have finished your night's work. We know what
you are when you start. Now go at once."


CHAPTER XXVIII
THE LAMP GOES OUT
MEANWHILE, Carrington had been pacing up and down
the room, obviously troubled and ill at ease. Anstruther
watched him with a gleam of malicious amusement in his
dark eyes. This strong man liked to feel that he had
everybody in his power; it was good to him to know that
he could move others as the man behind the curtain moves
the puppets in a marionette show. It was not particularly
that Anstruther cared for crime for its own sake, but he
loved to be subtle and mysterious; it was a joy to him to
get the better of his fellow creatures. Had Carrington but
known it, the major part of the trouble which was racking
his mind now had been brought about by the very man to
whom he turned most readily in the hour of his misfortunes.
He poured himself out a liberal dose of whiskey, and gulped
it down without the formality of adding anything to it.
He flung himself angrily into a chair.
“Now that that little ape is gone we can discuss my
affairs," he said. “My dear Anstruther, I am the most
desperate man in England to-night."
"I think I have heard that remark somewhere before,"
Anstruther said cynically. “Most people talk like that
when they owe twopence-ha'penny they can't manage to
pay. But tell me, are your affairs in such a state as that?"
“They could not possibly be worse," Carrington said,
moodily. “Since my father died, practically all the
financial side of the business has been left to me. Like
the fool that I am, I was not content with the handsome
profit that the concern was bringing in. I started specu-
lating for myself, and I was unlucky from the start. I lost
my head and plunged desperately, but that is not the worst
of it. Not only is all the property at the bank mortgaged
to its full value, but I have taken and disposed of securities
200


202
The Yellow Face
hint from the daily papers. Supposing that the bank was
mysteriously robbed—the safes forced open and all that
kind of thing?"
“Yes, and the whole thing exposed in twenty minutes,"
Carrington said, bitterly. “The robbing and gagging of
cashiers has been slightly overdone lately. I can't call a
single case to mind in which the scheme has not fallen to
the ground. Take the case of those stolen banknotes, for
instance. And even supposing that nothing could be
proved against one, there is always a large section of the
public ready to regard the trouble as nothing more than a
mere swindle. An affair like that would be the finishing
touch; it would ruin the bank's business utterly.".
"And incidentally save your skin,” said Anstruther,
significantly. “Oh, no; this is going to be a much more
artistic affair than that. If you could get me a plan of the
bank premises, including the safes and the cellars and all
that kind of thing, I believe I could hit upon a scheme
ingenious enough to deceive the police and gain you the
sympathy of the British public.".
Carrington shook his head wearily. He had expected
something much more brilliant and original from An-
struther than this.
"The plan you want would take days to prepare," he
said, “ to say nothing of the fact — "
Carrington jumped to his feet joyfully. His moody
face cleared, and something like a smile shone on his
features.
“What a fool I am!” he cried. “Why, I have the
very thing on the premises ; in fact, I have two copies.
It was only a few months ago that the bank premises were
thoroughly restored and a fresh set of strong rooms added.
I feel positively certain that in my safe here I have two
sets of iracings of the architect's plans. I'll get them for
you. Only I hope you won't make the same blunder over
this business as you did at the affair of the man whom we
will call Nostalgo Seymour.”.
Anstruther laughed unpleasantly. Jack's companion,
listening intently from his hiding place amongst the ferns,


204
The Yellow Face
sorr.ething dreadful during his brief absence. Arstruther
looked at him with some scorn.
“What a face!" he growled. "If you go down to
the bark looking like that you will have a run on the
concern in half an hour. So ghosts about here, I sup-
pose?"
" It isn't that,” Carrington said hoarsely; " but it is
something I have found in the corridor. It was lying on
the floor close by the dining-room door. Tell me, have
you ever seen it before?"
With a shaking haud Carrington laid a small silver-
mounted moleskin tobacco pouch on the table. At the
same moment Jack noticed that his companion had given
a great start. There was no need for Jack to be told that
the tobacco pouch in question was Seymour's property,
and had been dropped by him accidentally a little time
before.
" Why, you don't mean to say this belongs to Sey-
mour," Anstruther cried, and there was a real anxiety in
his voice. “ Yes, you are quite correct; I distinctly re-
member Seymour buying this peculiar pattern of filigree
silver. Now you see why I wanted to get that fellow out
of the way. I have tried to believe that he was dead and
gone, but not only is it quite evident that he is very much
alive, but also it is equally plain that he has been here to-
night.”
Carrington fairly shook as he hoarsely muttered his
opinion that Anstruther was right. He glanced timidly
about him, as if expecting to meet the face of Seymour;
he stepped towards the conservatory, as if suspicious that
the crimson flowers were hiding his enemy there. Then
he gave a shaky half-laugh at his own fears.
“My nerves are all rags to-night," he said. “ Positively
I imagined that I could see that dreadful scarred face of
Seymour glaring at me from behind the bank of geraniums.
Call me a coward if you like, but I must really ask you to
turn up the light in the conservatory. I dare not do it
myself.”
Something like a curse broke from the rigid figure by


The Lamp Goes Out
205
Jack's side. From overhead there dangled an electric
light swinging on a long, pliable flex. An instant later,
and there would come a brilliant blaze of light if An-
struther could have reached the switch towards which he
was contemptuously strolling. An instant later, and the
eavesdroppers would have been discovered; but Seymour
rose grandly to the situation. With one bound he was
across the floor of the conservatory, and literally tore the
switch from its place. Instantly the fuses connected with
the two rooms short-circuited, and the brilliant light of
the inner room was swallowed up in the throat of a great
velvety darkness. The thing was so swift, so clever, and
so unexpected, that Jack could only gasp. He was con-
scious of the fact that Seymour had left his side, but only
for a moment.
“ Confound the light !” Carrington cried. “Give me
a match, and I'll light the lamps. This is the second time
lately the same thing has happened."
The feeble spurt of a vesta made a tiny blue flame, but
it was sufficient to show Carrington the position of two
silver lamps. He lighted one of these and then the other,
and placed them on the table. As he did so his face grew
white again, his tongue began to stammer.
“ The plans,” he gasped. “Surely I put two on the
table? Where is the other ?"
“ The other," Jack's companion whispered, with a
hoarse chuckle of triumph, “is quite safe in my breast
pocket."


CHAPTER XXIX
THE SILVER LAMP
The wonderful coolness and audacity of his companion
filled Jack with admiration. He had forgotten for the
moment that there was any danger at all. It seemed to
him to be a good thing to have so adroit and cunning a
colleague to work with. The whole thing had been so
wonderfully swift; hardly a moment seemed to have
elapsed between the extinguishing of the light and the re-
turn of Seymour with the duplicate of the plan safely in
his pocket.
What he proposed to do next Jack could not guess for
the moment, neither did he much care. At the same time,
he felt quite convinced of the fact that Seymour had some
deep scheme in his mind. Jack's spirits rose in quite an
unaccountable way. He warmly congratulated himself on
the fact that he had found Seymour and brought him into
the campaign against Anstruther. The danger was by no
means over yet, as Seymour must have recognized ; but
that did not seem to trouble him much, for he was shaking
now with suppressed mirth, and was evidently enjoying the
situation as one does a screaming farce from a comfortable
place in the stalls.
Jack was about to whisper something of this to his com-
panion, when the latter checked him with a touch on the
arm. Inside the room, in the comparatively moderated
light of the lamps, Jack could see Carrington fussing about
uneasily.
“I tell you that there were two plans," he muttered.
“I am absolutely certain there was a duplicate. If you
have played any kind of trick upon me I hope you will
confess it at once.".
“ Trick be hanged,” Anstruther cried contemptuously.
“ Do you suppose that I indulge in practical joking? I
206


The Silver Lamp 207
say you have made a mistake; the duplicate plan is some-
where else."
" And I am equally certain that it was with those
papers," Carrington blustered. “They were lying side by
side a minute ago. And now one of them is gone, and you
want me to believe that it has been spirited away by unseen
hands."
"I don't want you to believe anything of the sort,"
Anstruther replied. “Not a minute had elapsed between
the time that the light went out and the moment that I
lighted the match. What a nervous, frightened fool you
are. You will be saying next that Seymour is concealed
somewhere in the room, and snatched this brilliant oppor-
tunity for purloining these papers. Really, we are getting
on. Hadn't you better look round the house. You will
have to go to bed presently, and I should advise you to
lock your door."
All this brutal sarcasm was utterly lost upon Carrington.
He was as frightened and nervous as a lonely woman
in a lonely house, who has discovered some strange man
there. He darted from the room, followed by Anstruther's
contemptuous laughter, and returned presently, saying that
he had made a thorough search of the flat.
“ Most assuredly nobody is on the premises," he said.
He was by no means convinced yet that Anstruther was
not playing some cunning trick upon him. “ It is most
extraordinary. You may say what you like, and prove
what you like; but I am ready to swear that I brought
both those plans into the room with me five minutes ago."
“Oh, look up the chimney," Anstruther growled.
“ Take all those plants out of your conservatory, and see
if the thief hasn't vanished up the water pipe. I am sick
of all these nervous fears and hysterical suspicions. It
has always been the curse of my existence that I can never
lay hands on an accomplice who is anything but a knave
or a fool."
Without heeding the savage outburst, Carrington took
one of the little silver lamps from the table, and, holding
it up by its crystal receiver, advanced cautiously in the


208
The Yellow Face
direction of the conservatory. Jack held his breath, and
prepared for the worst. He felt pretty sure now that he
and Seymour would be discovered. Not that he much
minded, except that he was extremely anxious not to be
recognized by Anstruther; but that risk had to be run.
It was a pity, too, seeing what a marvelous amount of in-
formation had been gleaned during the last half-hour; but
that was all part of the game.
" Is it possible he has vanished through the skylight ?"
Anstruther sneered.
Carrington muttered that there was a drop of some
thirty feet outside the conservatory. He still advanced
with the lamp in his hand, and peered about him with an
anxious face. The moment was a critical one indeed, and
Jack wondered if Seymour's wonderful fertility of resource
would be equal to the occasion. In the dim light of the
lamp he saw Seymour's right arm steal out, and his
sinewy fingers close upon a piece of hose pipe attached to
a tap in the wall. Evidently this had been used for
watering the flowers. The gardener responsible for the
well-doing of the rooms doubtless understood his work, and
watered each pot separately, instead of spraying the whole
place indiscriminately; for attached to the hose-pipe was
the small nozzle meant to convey a fine single jet for some
distance.
Jack began dimly to understand what Seymour meant
to do. It was going to be a dangerous experiment, but
danger was quite absolutely necessary if the eavesdroppers
were to escape unrecognized. If Seymour's plan was ab-
solutely successful, there was just the chance of them get-
ting away without their presence there being indicated at
all.
Jack saw the lean, brown hand stretch forth and turn
on the tap in the wall. Then the tap at the end of the
hose slid round, and a tiny spray of water, fine as a needle
and strong as the arrow from a bow, struck the chimney
of the lamp, now nearly red hot, and a tremendous smash
of cracking glass followed.
Carrington staggered back, and a kind of hysterical


The Silver Lamp
211
now we had best look to ourselves. No chance of making
a dash through those flames without being badly burned;
besides, I have no doubt there is some other way out of it.
Push those windows to, Mr. Masefield ; there is no reason
why we should be suffocated here."
By closing the windows leading to the smoking-room,
which was now a roaring mass of flame, it was possible to
cut off the heat and smoke for a moment, and perhaps
gain sufficient time to discover another means of retreat.
But this was easier said than done. With the aid of a
match or two, Seymour found the window at the back of
the conservatory, which opened outwards. So far as he
could see there was a drop of something like thirty feet
into a kind of alley at the back of the flats.
“We shall have to wait our chance," Seymour said.
“There are several more flats in the building, and no
doubt there will be plenty to do for the firemen later on.
In all probability, Anstruther and Carrington are mixed
up in the crowd which you may be quite sure has collected
by this time. Shall we wait on events, or shall we open
the window and yell for assistance ? We can pretend that
we were cut off by the fire."
On the whole, Jack thought it would be better to wait.
They were quite safe for the next quarter of an hour, at
any rate, and in that time much might happen.
“ It is worth risking," he said. “What a great thing
it would be if we could get away from here without those
men knowing that anybody had been on the premises.
Suppose we try our hands as amateur firemen. There is
plenty of water here."
But Seymour did not think it would be worth while. A
hose and pipe as small as that which they had at their dis-
posal would not be likely to be of much use in dealing
with the roaring tornado of fame behind the closed glass
doors. The conservatory, too, was getting intolerably
hot, but that discomfort was avoided by opening the win-
dow. There was just the outline of a leaded balcony to
be seen above the arch of the conservatory ; then, greatly
to Jack's delight, he saw the movements of some figures


212
The Yellow Face
below, and then a ladder was slowly raised until it rested
against the leads of the balcony.
" That is for the benefit of the people up-stairs," Sey-
mour suggested. “Possibly they cannot make the inhabi-
tants of the upper flats hear what is going on. See, the
ladder is quite clear by this time I expect those firemen
have got in through a window somewhere. Push this
window back, and see if you can reach the ladder.".
It was a comparatively easy matter to reach the ladder,
as Jack found to his great delight. A moment later he
and Seymour were upon it. They slid rapidly down, and
found themselves at length in the alley without anybody
being a penny the wiser.
"Well, of all the lucky chances," Jack exclaimed.
“We are well out of that. Let us go round to the front
and see what is going on there."
A great crowd had assembled in front of the burning
flat. The red outlines of a couple of engines could be
seen; beyond the crowd there was a sound and regular
rush of pumping water; and presently the crowd seemed
to understand that all danger was over. Jack touched
his companion's arm, and called his attention to the fact
that Carrington and Anstruther were standing within
earshot of them.
“And what are you going to do now?” asked the
latter,
“Oh, I shall go off and stay at the Great Metropolitan.
No, you needn't come along-I have had about enough
of your company for to-night.”
Carrington called a hansom, and was whirled away.
Seymour smiled in a significant manner.
"Wouldn't it be as well,” he suggested, “that you
also found it convenient to pass the night at the Great
Metropolitan ? Padini is there, too, and it is possible
that you may --"
“Right you are," Jack said eagerly. “Then I can
call upon you in the morning and report progress. Good-
night."


214
The Yellow Face
The clerk was friendly enough, and inclined to talk.
Was it a police matter? he asked. Jack responded
gravely that he was not in a position to say too much,
but his mysterious manner had the desired effect, and the
exchange was made.
"I haven't put you exactly next to that gentleman,"
the clerk explained. “You see our bedrooms are on a
sort of cubical system-corridors down both sides, and
the bedrooms back to back, if I may so express it-with a
ventilating grating between them for the sake of air.
That gentleman's bedroom is 28; therefore your room,
exactly behind it, is No. 14. I hope I have made myself
plain.”
Jack replied that the thing was perfectly clear. In-
deed, the system was in considerable vogue on the Conti-
nent. He lingered a little longer in the big lounge hall,
where he smoked a cigarette or two, so as to give Car-
rington time to get to bed. It occurred to Jack, in an
idle kind of way, that perhaps Carrington was deceiving
Anstruther, or why had he not come straight to the hotel ?
Instead of that, he had evidently gone off somewhere in
a desperate hurry, and had returned at length to the hotel
looking very exhausted and agitated. Jack pondered this
matter in his mind as he went up to his own room.
It was a comfortable enough bedroom, for the Great
Metropolitan was noted for the luxury of its appointments;
indeed, the room was fit for anybody. The lighting was
exceedingly efficient ; even over the bed was a pendant,
evidently intended for those who cared to read after they
retired to rest. Jack smiled as he noted the elaborate
dressing-table and wash-hand-stand, to say nothing of a
huge winged wardrobe, which was almost as big as a
bedroom itself. Behind this wardrobe, fairly close to the
ceiling, was the open grating which formed a ventilating
shaft between the one room and the other one behind
it.
Jack carefully closed the door, and with the aid of a
chair managed to climb to the top of the wardrobe. He
found that the grating was constructed on the swivel


Bedroom 14
215
principle, very like a big cheval glass, so that by tilting it
slightly it was just possible to see into the next room.
In the room aforesaid the lights had not yet been turned
down, so that evidently Carrington had not gone to bed.
The watcher could hear him impatiently pacing the room
and muttering to himself from time to time. The mutter-
ing was exceedingly incoherent, but from the gist of it
Jack seemed to make out that Carrington was expecting
somebody. On the far side of the room was a wardrobe
very much like the one upon which Jack was perched,
except that it had large plate-glass doors which reflected
practically everything that was taking place inside the
room.
Jack could see Carrington now, lounging in a comfort-
able armchair and impatiently turning over a great mass
of papers which lay on a table before him. On the table
also was a box of cigars, flanked by two glasses and the
necessary ingredients for the manufacture of whiskey and
soda. There could be no longer any doubt about it :
Carrington was expecting a friend. So far as the watcher
could see, there was no hurry. He was quite prepared to
sit up all night if necessary, and had no feelings of delicacy
in listening to what the two scoundrels were going to say
-provided always that the expected visitor was a
scoundrel, of which Jack had very little doubt.
As he stood there, his whole mind strained to attention,
it seemed to him that he could hear the sound of music
somewhere. To his trained ear there was something
familiar in the method of the player. Jack wondered
where he had heard that finished execution before. Then
it suddenly flashed upon him.
“How stupid," he muttered to himself. “I had quite
forgotten that Padini was here. That is Padini, without
a shadow of a doubt, carrying out the programme that
Anstruther made out for him."
The music was not far off ; it seemed to Jack that he
could almost hear the scraping of the bow. It was not
lost upon him, however, that the whole of the pieces were
Chopin's compositions. The music ceased presently with


216
The Yellow Face
a sudden twang, much as if the E string had violently
parted. A moment later, by the aid of the friendly
mirror, Jack saw Carrington's door open, and the figure
of Padini come in. Carrington glared at the intruder.
“What do you mean by keeping me waiting all this
time?" he growled. “ Didn't you get my telephone
message?"
" And hadn't I got my work to do?" Padini retorted.
“I dare say you consider yourself to be an exceedingly
clever fellow, but once you elect to match your wits with
Anstruther, you will find yourself a lost man. It is no
use you being in a hurry; as a matter of fact, I should
have kept you a full hour longer, only I have broken my
E string, and I don't happen to have another one on the
premises."
With an angry gesture Padini threw his violin on the
table. In a mechanical sort of way Carrington looked
at the severed string. He was always a suspicious man,
for it was an axiom of his never to trust anybody, and
he was wondering now if this were not part of some dodge
being worked out by his visitor. His face grew a little
anxious as he held one end of the broken string between
his thumb and finger.
“I suppose you call this a simple fracture,” he said.
“String worn out, and all that kind of thing. If you
will look at it carefully, you will see that it has been half
cut; you can actually see how far the knife has gone."
Padini examined the string carefully. His face also had
grown a little gray and anxious.
“It is exactly as you say, my friend," he exclaimed.
" But I wonder how that was done, and why. It is not as
if I left my violin about-one is not so careless with a gen-
uine Amati like mine. I brought the fiddle back with me
from my afternoon recital, and I am prepared to swear that
there was nothing the matter with it then. I locked it up
in my box, and there it stayed till a couple of hours ago.
Now what does this mean? Does anybody suspect us?
Has Anstruther's clever scheme come to the knowledge


Bedroom 14
217
.
of anybody? The police, perhaps, might have dis-
covered - "
• The police have nothing whatever to do with that,"
Carrington said angrily. “What have any of us done to
bring ourselves within the reach of the law-at present ?
The man that we have most to fear is Seymour. How you
came to let him slip through your fingers the other night is
an absolute mystery to me."
Padini shrugged his shoulders, and something like an
oath escaped him. By aid of the friendly mirror Jack ob-
tained a perfect view of his face. It was white and sinis-
ter; the dark eyes gleamed like living coals.
• But Seymour must be dead,” the violinist said
hoarsely. "We know he is dead ; did we not read it in
the papers? It may be that some friends stole his body
for purposes of their own, but dead he is. If I thought he
was still alive, I should have to leave London; I dare not
stay here with a horror like that hanging over me."
“ You are absolutely wrong," Carrington cried. “Sey-
mour is still alive; he is still in London, thirsting for
vengeance. He is rich, he has the courage of a lion, and
the mind of a Machiavelli. You smile, my friend, but it
is the smile of a thoroughly frightened man. Seymour is
after you; he is after me. Look at this. Don't say you
fail to recognize it.”
“It is his tobacco pouch," Padini faltered.
“Yes; I thought you would recognize it. And where
do you suppose I found that to-night? In my own room,
lying on the floor. Do you want any greater proof than
that, that Seymour was working in my own rooms to-
night?"
Padini nodded moodily. Jack noticed how his hand
trembled as he helped himself to the whiskey and soda.
"I am sick of this,” he muttered. “I mean to get out
of it-I am as anxious as you are to get outside Anstruther's
influence. That is why I am here to-night. I am going
to tell you my plan-call it murderous and treacherous if
you like—which is the only way of settling Anstruther's


CHAPTER XXXI
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
It was impossible, boxed up as he was in the stuffy at-
mosphere of the wardrobe, for Jack to hear anything of
what was going on in the next room. But it was pretty
easy to guess what was the meaning of Anstruther's strange
intrusion. There was only one thing for it, and that was
to possess his soul in patience and hope that Anstruther
had no intention of spending the night there. It was per-
fectly obvious that he had come only with the intention
of hearing what was taking place in the next room. It
was impossible for anybody possessed of ordinary intellect
not to admire Anstruther, whose brilliant qualities could
not be ignored. Even now, excited as he was, Masefield
could not repress his admiration for the man he both feared
and disliked.
It really was a marvelous thing that Anstruther should
be so soon upon the track of the man with whom he had
parted on friendly terms not an hour ago. Was this the
result of some perfect system of spying, or was it that An-
struther's wonderful instinct led him to believe that Car-
rington was ready to plot against him whilst professing to
act upon his advice? Masefield had plenty of time to
ponder this question, for the figure on the wardrobe above
gave no signs as yet of having had enough of it. Nor was
Jack's situation rendered more pleasant by the knowledge
that he might have to pass the night in a perpendicular
position and half stifled by the stuffy atmosphere of the
wardrobe.
But there was always comfort in the knowledge that
Anstruther's main object was to hear the conversation in
the next room. It might possibly last not much longer;
219


220
The Yellow Face
at any rate, Carrington would have to go to bed some
time, and the sooner the better.
An hour passed. An hour which seemed the whole of
a long night came to an end at length, and then there was
some sound, as if of a body cautiously moving overhead.
Jack drew a long breath of relief, or at least as long a
breath as was possible, considering his stilling surround-
ings. The critical moment had arrived. Had the confer-
ence next door finished, or was it merely an interlude ?
Jack wondered. He had been bound to push the door of
the wardrobe open a little, and now he saw a long slit of
light, which told him that Anstruther had turned up the
lamps again. He could hear the latter pacing the room in
a restless kind of fashion, and muttering to himself as if he
were not entirely satisfied with what he had heard.
Jack, greatly daring, ventured to push the wardrobe door
open slighily further. He caught a side view of his enemy
as the latter sat moodily on the bed, with apparently no
intention of removing his clothing. It was quite within
the bounds of possibility now that Anstruther, having sat-
isfied himself, would leave the hotel altogether. A moment
later and Jack saw that his conclusion was the right one.
Anstruther turned towards the door.
“No reason to stay here any longer," he muttered.
“ I'm as tired as a dog. I suppose my nerves are not what
they used to be, or perhaps I am growing old ; at any rate,
this sort of thing tells upon me more than it used to.
Certainly that half-sovereign of mine was well laid out.
Oh, you contemptible pair of rascals—so you think you are
going to get the best of Spencer Anstruther. We shall see.
And as to Padini - "
The speaker shook his fist in the direction of the next
room, and walked quietly in the direction of the door.
Jack could hear the key turn in the lock. He felt a
suggestion of draught as if the room were now open to
the corridor. The next instant the lights vanished, and
Anstruther had left the room. Jack crept out into the
comparatively pure atmosphere, and wiped the moisture
from his forehead. He preferred to remain in the dark-


A Chance Encounter
221
ness till he had made up his mind what to do. Looking
up in the direction of the ventilator, he could see that the
lights were now extinguished in Carrington's bedroom.
This was plain evidence of the fact that the conference
was concluded, and that there was no occasion to stay
any longer.
I'll get out of it too,” Jack muttered to himself. “ It
is only a matter of forfeiting my sovereign, and what I
have learned is cheap at the price ; but I shall have to be
cautious."
It was perhaps fortunate for Jack that a somewhat
large rush of late guests came into the hotel at the same
moment. Most of them were racing men returning from
a big meeting up north. Anyway, the servants appeared
to be particularly busy, so that Jack felt that he could
slip away without any suspicions as to his movements. He
waited just a moment till the corridor was practically
empty, then sauntered towards the head of the stairs with
the air of a man who has just come in.
He had practically reached the big square landing, when
a bedroom door opened cautiously, and a man's face
peeped out. It occurred to Jack that possibly this man
was looking for something, or that he was going to deposit
his boots outside, or something of that kind. But the
stranger, who was about half-dressed, did nothing of the
kind. On the contrary, he raised his finger in a mysteri-
ous manner, and beckoned deliberately to Jack. He did
not appear in the least agitated; on the contrary, his ex-
pression was one of caution and mistrust. Jack, thinking
that it might have been a little play of fancy on his part,
would have moved on, only the stranger stepped briskly
outside and touched him on the arm.
“Is there anything I can do for you?" Jack asked
politely. “I suppose your bell's gone wrong, or some-
thing of that sort ; I am quite at your service."
“Will you be good enough to step inside my room?"
the stranger said. “The request will probably strike you
as being somewhat out of the common, but I really have
something important to say to you."


222
The Yellow Face
As was quite natural in the circumstances, Jack hesi-
tated for a moment. Like most people, he had heard and
read a great deal about strange hotel outrages, and it
occurred to him now that he might have been chosen for
the victim of one of these. Possibly the stranger was mad,
or possibly he was suffering from alcoholic excess. But
Jack felt more reassured as he carefully examined the
features of the stranger.
He was a tall, slim man, who palpably was recovering
from some dangerous illness. It was either that, or he
was far gone in consumption. Jack could see that the
mere act of standing there was a weariness of the flesh;
he noted also the attenuated arms, which at one time or
another must have been exceedingly powerful, for the
sinews and muscles seemed to hang upon the bones like
rags.
But it was the face of the man that attracted Jack's
attention most. It was long and lean and pallid ; there
were thin strips of plaster skilfully bandaged about the
eyes and mouth, and down the sides of the long, hawk-like
nose. Still, behind it all, there was ever the suggestion
that this man was a sportsman and an athlete. Jack
seemed to know by instinct that his new acquaintance
was a man who had passed much time in warm climates.
He began to wonder if the stranger had laid violent hands
upon himself. It was very strange to see all that maze
of plaster, as if the face had been carved in some grotesque
fashion with a knife.
"Do please come inside for a moment," the stranger
pleaded. “I assure you I mean no harm, and our con-
versation may result in a wonderful deal of good. You
evidently regard me as a kind of lunatic. Well, in some
respects, perhaps, you are right; but there is a good deal
of method in my madness."
Jack still hesitated. The stranger sighed bitterly.
“I see I must be candid with you,” he said. “I am
taking a great risk, but I am trusting you because I never
make a mistake about a face. You have been closeted for
some time in the same room with Spencer Anstruther, but


A Chance Encounter
223
that you are an accomplice of his I feel sure is impossible.
Now will you come inside my room?"
Jack hesitated no longer. He strode into the room, and
his new acquaintance closed the door behind him. The
apartment was furnished half as a sitting, half as a bed-
room. A fire burned in the grate, an invalid armchair was
pulled up to one side of it. There was plenty of proof,
also, of the fact that the occupant of the room was an
invalid. Here were bottles with chemists' labels ; here
were some cotton wool and a case of surgical instruments.
In one corner of the room was a small iron bedstead, which
was obviously placed there for the use of a male nurse.
“You are quite right,” the stranger said, as if reading
Jack's thoughts. “As a matter of fact, there is no
reason why you should have accepted my invitation at all
-one hears of so many strange things happening in these
big modern hotels. As you imagine, I am just recover-
ing from a dangerous illness, the result of a very delicate
operation. But we need not go into that. What you
are dying to find out is how I know all about Spencer
Anstruther."
“I confess I am a little curious on the point," Jack said
drily. "You are taking a great risk when you mention
his name and assume that I am no friend of his."
“ You couldn't be with a face like yours," the stranger
replied. “A dupe, perhaps, or a man he was making use
of; but never one of his infamous gang. And yet you
were in that room with him a long time to night."
Jack hesitated a moment before he spoke again.
“ Look here," he said. “You have been fairly candid
with me, and in return I will be as candid with you.
Anstruther is a great scoundrel, and it is to my interest and
to the interests of those I love that the man should be
exposed and rendered harmless for the future. Now, how
did you know that we were in the same bedroom to-
gether?"
" That is easily explained," said the other. “My male
nurse was suddenly called away this evening on important
business. I have been feeling so much better the last day


224
The Yellow Face
or two that I decided to do without a substitute. Mind
you, I knew perfectly well that Anstruther was frequently
in the habit of spending an occasional night here. And I
had my own reasons for keeping out of his way. But
something happened to my bell to-night, and I had to go
to the top of the corridor and use the bell there. It was
quite by accident that I saw you enter Bedroom No. 14,
and it was quite by accident, also, that I heard Anstruther
demand to know why he could not have the same room.
I listened with curiosity, because the thing struck me as
very strange. It struck me as stranger still when I heard
Anstruther say that the room was empty, and saw him close
the door behind him."
"A kind of vanishing trick," Jack smiled.
“ Well, yes, if you like to put it in that way," the other
said. " It was either one of two things-you were there
as an accomplice, which I refuse for one moment to believe,
or you had hidden yourself in the room for the purpose of
watching Anstruther. In fact, seeing that circumstances
were going for you, you laid a neat little trap for Anstruther.
Have I not guessed it correctly?".
"Your deductions are perfectly sound," Jack said. “I
deliberately chose that bedroom with the full intention of
overhearing what was going on in the room behind.
When I heard Anstruther come in, I hid myself in the
wardrobe and stayed there till he left the room. Now I
have told you all that has happened so far as I am con-
cerned. It is your turn to be communicative."
“I am exceedingly sorry to appear discourteous," the
stranger said ; “ but I am afraid I cannot tell you very
much. The mere mention of Anstruther's name always
throws me into a kind of terror. I may be able to help
you later on, but for the present I am bound to silence.
But tell me now, do you see any likeness between An-
struther and myself ?"
The question was asked with an eagerness that struck
Jack as being far beyond the necessity of so simple a
query. The speaker seemed to fairly tremble for Jack's
reply.


A Chance Encounter
225
“ There does not begin to be any resemblance," he
said. “The question strikes me as being a strange one.
And now let me ask you a question. From what you say,
you appear to know Anstruther exceedingly well. Now,
did you ever notice his likeness to anybody? You have
seen him when he has been greatly moved to passion, I
suppose ?"
The stranger shuddered, and turned away his head.
“ That is sufficient answer for me,” Jack said. “I dare
say you have noticed those strange Nostalgo posters.
Did it ever occur to you that Anstruther is not unlike
those pictures ?".
The effect of the question was extraordinary. The
stranger looked at Jack with eyes filled with terror.
“Strange, very strange," he muttered hoarsely. “ You
have hit it exactly. May I ask, have you ever been in
Mexico ?"
"No," Jack replied ; " but I know a man who has.
Did you ever meet an individual out there called
Seymour ?"


CHAPTER XXXII
LADY BARMOUTH'S JEWELS
Jack had merely drawn a bow at a venture, but the shaft
went home to the feather. By instinct he seemed to divine
the fact that the stranger who knew so much of Anstruther's
inner life might also know as much as the man called
Nostalgo, otherwise Seymour. This instinct did not play
Jack false, for he saw his companion stagger back as if he
had been shot. He fell into a chair, and plucked feebly
at the arms of it with his fingers.
“You are on dangerous ground indeed," he said
hoarsely. “ Have you a wife depending on you, or one
you love? If so, turn your back upon me at once, and
never see my face again.”
It was a 'warning deep, thrilling, and impressive. But
Jack merely shook his head and smiled. He had no in-
tention of turning back now.
" I know too much or too little," he said. “Mr.
Seymour is by way of being a friend of mine-in fact, I
was the means of doing him a great service the other
night. But I see from the expression of your face that
you know all about that."
“ Have you seen Seymour in the daylight, just as he
is ? " the stranger asked eagerly. “You know what I
mea
“I know what you mean perfectly well," Jack replied.
"I have seen Seymour just as he is. To make another
shot, I have also seen Lord Barmouth just as he is."
The stranger sat bolt upright in his chair, and regarded
Jack with grim satisfaction.
"This is good news indeed," he said. "I am pleased
to find out that I am betraying no secrets in my conver-
sation with you. What I want you to do is this—I want
226


Lady Barmouth's Jewels
227
you to arrange a meeting between Seymour and myself.
It will be dangerous for me to leave the hotel at present,
so that you must arrange it in a way that Seymour can
come here."
“If you will be good enough to tell me your name,”
Jack suggested. “It is just possible — "
The stranger shook his head, and hoped that Jack
would not deem him guilty of being discourteous if he
withheld his name for the present. He took from a desk
a small, curiously-designed ring, and passed it across to
Tack.
“I think you will find that all that is necessary," he
explained. “If you will take that ring and say that it
came from the owner, I am quite sure that Seymour will
be willing to fall in with my wishes. And now, I will bid
you good-night, sir. It is good to know that we have a
man of your courage and intelligence on our side."
So saying, the stranger rose to his feet, and extended
his long, slim hand to Jack. He intimated that Jack
might come and see him from time to time, but that caution
would be absolutely necessary.
“Ask for Jabez Smith," he said. “That is the name
under which I am known here. If you only knew how
fortunate a thing it is that we have met to-night! But
Lord Barmouth and Seymour will be able to prove that to
you presently. Once more, good-night.”.
The door closed behind Jack; he heard the click of the
lock, and found himself alone in the corridor. He could
see that there were still many people smoking and chatting
in the big lounge below. The great hall door was not
yet closed, so that it was possible for Jack to slip into the
street absolutely unnoticed. He felt restless and excited,
and absolutely devoid of any desire to rest. Sleep in the
circumstances would be out of the question. It was no
use going home, there to toss and fret all night. It was
just possible, too, that Rigby had not yet left the Planet
office, as it was barely one o'clock. Anyway, a walk in
the cool night air was bound to prove invigorating. It
did not much matter, however, whether Masefield saw


228
The Yellow Face
Rigby or not. He could tell him all this exciting history
in the morning.
But Rigby was still in his office, waiting for a proof;
after which he declared he meant to go to the Press Club
for supper. It was an entertaining supper, for Jack's nar-
rative was piquant enough, as he had so much to tell.
"Well, you have had a night of it," Rigby said enviously.
6. Who are you that you should have all the luck like this?
Here have I been all the evening, doing nothing to earn
the approval of my proprietor, whilst you have been getting
at the heart of the mystery. I shall have to divide my fee
with you, Jack."
For a long time they discussed the matter in all its bear-
ings. What seemed to interest Rigby more than anything
else was the scheme proposed by Anstruther to get Carring-
ton out of his serious position. He saw great possibilities
now that the plan of the bank premises had come into the
possession of the man Seymour, especially as the con-
spirators were unaware of this.
"We ought to be able to make a good thing out of this,"
he said thoughtfully. “Of course, it will all have to be
worked out very carefully ; but I should like to catch those
fellows in the trap they have laid for others. After all, it
makes no difference to you how Anstruther is got out of
the way, so long as he receives a good dose of penal servi-
tude. That once being done, we shall be able to work
quite openly, and it is evident that your new friend Sey-
mour can expound the whole of the Nostalgo business. I
shall get my special article for the Planet, after all; but it
will be more thanks to you than to my own efforts."
"Well, you needn't tell Van Jens that,” Jack laughed.
“Give me the outline of your scheme.”
“ I want to force Carrington's hand. I want him to
understand how desperate his situation is, so that he and
Anstruther must take action at once. Now, for instance,
you tell me you heard Carrington say to-night that his
bank has a great amount of jewelry in its keeping. Is
that so?"
“ They had it in their keeping,” Jack said, drily.


Lady Barmouth's Jewels
229
"Well, that is exactly what I mean," Rigby responded.
* And Carrington is in mortal terror lest some great lady
should come along at any moment and demand her gems.
You will remember telling me that Carrington was especially
apprehensive over the great masked ball which is coming
off at Lady Barmouth's in two days' time. Do you hap-
pen to know any of the titled women who are asked ? If
you could get one of them to go round to Carrington's to-
morrow and ask for her gems, why —
"I see exactly what you mean," Jack cried eagerly.
“We should force the hands of those two scoundrels,
and compel them to do something without delay. By so
doing, also, we should upset the delicate schemes of An-
struther "
"You have got it exactly,” Rigby murmured. “ Can
you bring this about? It should easily be done."
"I don't see very well how I can do it myself," Jack
responded. “But Claire knows a great many of these
people, and I should think she would not have the slightest
difficulty in doing what we need. Anyway, I'll go round
and see her to-morrow morning, and tell her exactly what
has taken place. Is it all that time? Really, I must go
to bed and try and get some sleep. Good-night."
After all, youth will be served, even in the way of sleep;
and Jack was surprised to find, on waking next morning,
that it was nearly ten o'clock. It was nearly twelve before
he knocked at the door of the house in Panton Square and
asked to see Claire. It was Serena who answered the
summons-Serena, gray and silent and subdued in the
morning light. All the same, she gave Jack one swift,
furtive glance before her eyes sought the floor again.
"I will go up to the drawing-room myself,” Jack said.
“ So you are none the worse for your last night's adventure,
Serena ? Come, you need not look at me like that, and
pretend not to understand. What were you doing in Mr.
Carrington's flat last night ?".
A sound like a sob broke from Serena, but she answered
nothing.
“If you only knew how profoundly sorry I am for you,"


230
The Yellow Face
Jack said softly. “When the time comes, you will have
to speak; and when the time comes we shall deal with you
as kindly as possible. Although you refuse to speak now,
you must not believe otherwise than that. We know
everything. We know, for instance, where you were last
night, and we have nothing to learn as to the deaf mute
and the young man who has a fancy to wear his moustache
in the same form as the style affected by the German
Emperor."
Serena listened, with her eyes fixed mutely on Jack's
face. It seemed to him that she was bursting with anxiety
to speak, but that some strange force held her tongue and
choked her utterance.
" Do not go too far," she said presently, in a strained,
hard whisper. “Not that I mean to threaten you. Be-
lieve me, I am all on your side; but I dare not speak.
You may call me coward if you like ; you may say that I
have no nerve or courage; but if you had gone through
the hell that my life has been the last few years, you would
wonder that I had the strength of mind to look even the
feeblest fellow creature in the face.”
Just at the moment when it seemed to Jack that Serena
was likely to take him into her confidence, she turned
abruptly away, and disappeared in the direction of the
kitchen. Jack went slowly and thoughtfully up-stairs to
the drawing-room, where he found Claire with her hat on
ready to go out. It was clear that she had not expected
him, but her welcome was none the less warm for that.
“I am afraid I shall have to detain you a little time,
dearest,” Jack said. “A great deal has happened since I
saw you yesterday, and I think you ought to know most
of it. Sit down a moment, please.".
Claire sat by her lover's side, and listened intently to
the strange story that he had to tell. It was clear from
the expression of her blue eyes that she was a little fearful
for her lover. She clutched his arm impulsively, and he
responded to the touch. It was not difficult for him to
realize what was passing in her mind.
“ You need not have any anxiety as far as I am


Lady Barmouth's Jewels
231
concerned," he said. “Very fortunately for us, those
scoundrels have not the least idea that we know so much
of their movements. But what I came here especially for
this morning was to ask you if you knew anybody going to
Lady Barmouth's dance whose jewels are in the keeping of
Carrington's bank? I think I explained Rigby's point to
you. Do you know anybody who could help us?”
"I know one who could help you who is not very far
off, dear old boy," Claire smiled. “You seem to have
forgotten that I am rather an important person in my
small way. Did I never tell you of the jewels that my
grandmother left me ?"
“I declare I had quite forgotten them," Jack said. “I
never care to associate you with money, especially as I
have so little of my own. Diamonds, weren't they ?"
“ Diamonds and sapphires," Claire explained. “They
are really almost unique in their way. I generally keep
them, on the advice of my guardian, with Mr. Carrington.
Let us go round there now and ask for the gems.”
It was not exactly what Jack had meant, because it oc-
curred to him that Carrington might easily vamp some
excuse so far as Claire was concerned, and then get An-
struther to invent some reason why the jewels were not
forthcoming. Still, it might do, and there was no reason
why they should not try it.
“I was going really to see Lady Barmouth," Claire ex-
plained. “But I can call in there as we return from the
city. Let us have a hansom at once.”
The imposing offices of the City and Provincial Bank
were reached at length. There was nothing inside or out-
side the place to denote that the concern was trembling to
the verge of bankruptcy. Mr. Carrington was not busy, a
polite cashier informed them, and he would be pleased to
see Miss Helmsley at once. Jack followed in behind
Claire, and he could not but be impressed by the ease and
assurance of Carrington's manner. The latter did not
show the slightest signs of agitation when Claire explained
her presence there.
"Certainly,” he said. “You have come, of course,


232
The Yellow Face
provided with your guardian's signature. No? I am
afraid we cannot dispense with that formality. Send it
on by messenger, and one of our own clerks shall bring
the jewels' round. What a delightful morning it is !
Good-bye.”
Jack accepted his checkmate cheerfully enough. It was
exceedingly adroit and clever on Carrington's part, and
some other method of forcing his hand would have to be
adopted. Jack was bowing himself out, when some one
else came sailing into the room ; and, to his great delight,
Jack recognized Lady Barmouth. He divined at once
what she had come for and what her errand was.
“Good-morning, all of you," she cried, gaily. “Mr.
Carrington, you will not thank me for disturbing you this
time of the day, but as I happen to be passing this way I
thought I would save trouble. Will you be so good as to
hand me over my jewels ? "
Carrington made no answer. His face was pale as ashes.


CHAPTER XXXIII
GEMS OR PASTE ?
It was a dramatic moment, especially for Claire and
Jack, who fully appreciated the peril in which Carrington
stood. The fact was not hidden to them that Carrington's
excuse to Claire was but an ingenious way out of a terrible
difficulty. On more than one occasion Claire had herself
fetched her jewels from the bank, and no objections had
been raised. Still, Carrington was clearly within his legal
right, and Jack could not but admire the swiftness with
which he had got himself out of the tangle. His own
face was a model of absolute indifference; he just glanced
at Claire to see if she expressed any suspicion. But Claire
smiled in a way so natural and artless that Jack had no
fears of her for the future.
With Lady Barmouth, however, it was quite a different
matter. As yet, she knew nothing of the terrible straits in
which Carrington found himself involved. She had come
down for her jewels in the ordinary way, as she had done
many times before, and expected to take them away with
her. Carrington affected to be talking to somebody down
the speaking tube, but in reality he was fighting to gain
time and work out some ingenious excuse. Jack enjoyed
his dismay with a feeling of grim satisfaction.
But Carrington was not quite done with yet; evidently
he had not sat at the feet of Anstruther for nothing. He
looked up presently, and smiled with the air of a man who
is only too willing to do anything for his client.
Will you take a seat for a moment, Lady Barmouth?"
he said politely. "I see that you know Miss Helmsley
and Mr. Masefield. I must go and speak to our cashier
for a moment."
“ You cannot get the jewels yourself?” Lady Bar-
mouth asked.
233


234
The Yellow Face
“No," Carrington explained. “Of course, we are
bound to take precautions. I have no more power to
open one of the safes by myself than one of my junior
clerks."
“That would be awkward if you wanted anything out
of bank hours," Jack suggested. “How do you manage
then ?"
"Well, we simply don't manage," Carrington said.
He was quite himself again by this time. “I can no
more get into the strong room that you could. I should
have to get the manager and chief cashier before a safe
could be opened.”.
All this sounded plausible enough, as Jack was bound
to admit Carrington went off with a jaunty step, as
if he had all the millions of the Bank of England behind
him. Jack wondered how he would get out of the mess.
But the solution of the puzzle was quite easy. Carrington
came back with a look of annoyance on his face.
“I am exceedingly sorry, Lady Barmouth,” he apolo-
gized. “The fact is, Mr. Perkins has been called away
on important business to our West-End branch. He can-
not possibly get back in less than an hour. Do you want
your jewels in such a hurry?"
Lady Barmouth was fain to confess that she didn't.
She would not require them till the following evening;
only some time must necessarily be spent in the cleaning
of them.
“Plenty of time for that," Carrington smiled. “I will
send a special messenger in a cab to bring the cases to
your house by lunch time. I hope that will be convenient
to you."
Lady Barmouth, innocent of the part which she was
playing in the comedy, replied that that arrangement
would suit her exceedingly well ; indeed, she was sorry
to give so much trouble. She swept out of the bank par-
lor, followed by Jack and Claire. A well-appointed
brougham stood outside, and she smilingly offered her
companions a lift.
“I am going to take Claire back to lunch with me,"


Gems or Paste ?
235
she said. “Can I set you down anywhere, Mr. Mase-
field ?"
"You can set me down, if you please, on you own
door-step," Jack smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was just
going to see Lord Barmouth, and now I have something
serious to say to you. Were you satisfied just now?
About the jewels, I meau ?"
Lady Barmouth looked puzzled as Jack followed her
into the brougham. She saw nothing, so she said, to
arouse any suspicions, except that she thought a needless
fuss had been made over her gems. She was still discuss-
ing the matter, when the brougham reached Belgrave
Square, and the three alighted. Once they were in the
drawing-room, Lady Barmouth turned to Jack and asked
him what he meant. He shook his head doubtfully.
“I am afraid I am going to upset you very much," he
said. “But unless I am greatly mistaken, you are never
likely to see your diamonds again."
Lady Barmouth stared open-mouthed at the speaker. She
explained that her diamonds were of great value ; indeed,
some of the stones were historic. Those diamonds had
often been mentioned in personal paragraphs, which are
such a feature in the modern newspaper, and Jack recol.
lected a description of them perfectly well. He proceeded
to explain, at considerable length, the history of his last
night's adventure. Lady Barmouth's face grew still more
grave when at length the recital was finished.
" This is a very serious matter," she said. “Do you
know this is likely to cost Lord Barmouth something like
fifty thousand pounds? The City and Provincial Bank
does a good deal of business with people well known in
Society, and I am afraid many of us will be involved.
What do you suppose has become of those diamonds, Mr.
Masefield ?"
" They have been pawned, of course," Jack said.
“ Carrington has taken that dreadful risk in the desperate
hope of retrieving his position. But the whole scandal
is bound to become public property before eight and forty
hours have passed."


Gems or Paste ?
237
much more like the property of the Duchess of Birming-
ham. I have no pearls or emeralds—my jewels are all dia-
monds and sapphires. The cases must have been changed ;
a mistake easily accounted for, as they are both green
wraps.”
But Jack was not in the least convinced. This was
some desperate expedient to lull Lady Barmouth's sus-
picions to sleep for the time. And doubtless Carrington
had gone off hot foot to Anstruther, and implored him to
find some way out of the terrible difficulty. Another idea
occurred to Jack, but this he did not dare to mention for
the present-it was too suggestive of a situation from some
melodrama.
“I think I can explain the whole thing," he said.
6. But, first of all, I should like to take Lord Barmouth's
opinion on the matter. Probably he has finished his own
lunch by this time. Will you see if he is ready to receive
me?"
Lord Barmouth was glad enough to see Jack, and wel-
comed him quite cordially. Then Jack laid the jewel
cases upon the table, and proceeded to relate once more
the story of last night's happenings. He concluded with
a description of his visit to Carrington, and epitomized the
incident of the changed jewels.
“ Certainly a most extraordinary thing," Barmouth
said. “I rather gather from the expression of your face
that you have some solution to offer."
"Indeed I have,” Jack said eagerly. “This is merely
a trick to gain time, and an exceedingly clever trick, too.
Carrington had naturally assumed that we know nothing
of his desperate position. If we were in the dark on that
point, the mistake would look exceedingly natural. But,
knowing what we do, the situation is entirely changed. I
don't believe those are the Duchess of Birmingham's dia-
monds—I don't believe they are diamonds at all.”
“By Jove ! You have hit it exactly," Barmouth cried.
"What a really magnificent idea! Carrington has no
diamonds; therefore he lays out, say, a couple of hundred
pounds in some showy-looking paste, and sends them


238
The Yellow Face
round here as my wife's gems. She, absolutely innocent
of any deception, sends them back and asks to have the
mistake rectified. Back from the bank comes a polite
note of regret apologizing for the mistake, and promising
the proper stones for to-morrow, the cashier having left for
the day."
"Exactly my idea," Jack cried. “But we can soon
settle that, Lord Barmouth. You have only to telephone
to your family jeweler, and ask him to step round here for
a moment."
Barmouth fell in with the suggestion at once, and a
telephone message was dispatched to the famous firm of
Flint & Co., in Bond Street. Mr. Flint himself arrived a
few minutes later, and the dubious gems were laid before
him. He had not the slightest hesitation in giving his
verdict.
“ Paste, my lord," he said briefly, “and pretty poor
stuff at that. I can see that, even in this dim light. See
how dull these stones are! Real gems, even in semi-
gloom, shimmer and sparkle, but these don't show up at
all. The whole lot did not cost more than two hundred
pounds; in fact, these things are little better than stage
jewels."
“Can you tell us where they come from ?" Jack asked.
“Certainly I can, sir," Mr. Flint replied, promptly.
“ There are occasions when clients of ours are compelled
to exchange the real for the false. In cases like that we
go to Osmond & Co., of Clerkenwell, where these came
from. I hope there is nothing wrong."
Barmouth said politely that that matter could be dis-
cussed on a future occasion. He would not detain Mr.
Flint any more for the present, and the latter bowed him-
self out of the room.
“What do you propose to do now?" Barmouth asked.
« Well, with your permission, I propose to strike while
the iron is hot," Jack said. “It is quite evident that this
rubbish has ncen purchased very recently from Osmond's.
If you will allow me to do so, I will go at once with the
cases to Clerkenwell, and ascertain the purchaser. If we


In the Vault
241
again. But matters cannot be allowed to rest here. Car-
rington knows that he is at the end of his tether ; con-
sequently, that clever bogus burglary you heard discussed
last night must take place this evening. What do you pro-
pose to do? In my present unfortunate condition I can't
interfere. The only thing I can do is to leave it entirely
in your hands."
Jack went off presently to seek Rigby, whom he found
at his rooms. The latter looked up eagerly, for he could
see from his friend's face that Jack had a great deal to
tell.
“ There is one little thing that seems to stand in the
way of our ultimate success," Jack said, thoughtfully,
"and that is as to Lady Barmouth's brother. I am afraid
that he is in some way mixed up with this business-to his
detriment, I mean. I should not care to do anything
likely to cause additional pain to that estimable lady after
all her great kindness."
Rigby looked up in some bewilderment. Apparently
he did not quite understand the drift of Jack's argument.
“I may be very dense,” he said, “but I don't follow
you. What can Lady Barmouth's brother have to do
with it?"
"Well, you must cast your memory back to the night
of the great adventure, when Lady Barmouth played so
courageous a part, and got us out of a serious difficulty.
Do you follow"
"I think I do now," Rigby said slowly. “Oh, yes; it
is all coming back to me. Lady Barmouth asked Red-
grave where her brother was, and Redgrave replied that
he knew nothing about the individual in question. But,
my dear fellow, you have not proved to me yet that Lady
Barmouth has a brother."
“ Now you are puzzling me," Jack murmured.
“Not at all. On the night I speak of, Lady Barmouth
had to act on the spur of the moment. It was necessary
to gag a bit to play for an opening. You are taking too
much for granted. If Lady Barmouth has a brother, you
will probably find that he has nothing to do with this


242
The Yellow Face
matter. In any case, why worry about him to-night ?
We seem to have a big adventure before us so far as I can
gather from what you have just told me. And if you are
still in doubt, it will be quite an easy matter to see Lady
Barmouth in the morning, and ascertain from her whether
or not our proposed line of action is likely to do any harm.
I don't suppose that Lady Barmouth knows or cares any.
thing for Redgrave, who appears to be a kind of sottish
tool of Anstruther's."
“Quite right," Jack agreed. “And now, come along
and let us set the ball rolling again. I think that I have
told you everything. And now we will go off without de-
lay, and see Seymour-the man I told you about, who was
with me last night.”
Rigby assented to the suggestion eagerly enough, and
together they set out in the direction of Seymour's rooms.
There was not much chance of the latter being out, seeing
that he had his own cogent reasons for not facing the day.
light, and surely enough it turned out as Masefield had
expected.
Seymour was dawdling over his tea with a cigarette and
a French novel, a bored expression on his face. That face,
however, became eager and animated as Jack came in and
introduced Rigby to his host.
“ Things are beginning to move rapidly then," Sey-
mour exclaimed. “Your face speaks of action, Mr.
Masefield. Is it about Carrington? You have discovered
something fresh."
"I think I have discovered pretty well everything,"
Jack replied. “I have managed to force that fellow's
hand, just as Rigby suggested I should. He has con-
sulted Anstruther, as we knew he would; and a pretty
scheme for gaining time they evolved between them. But
perhaps I had better tell you everything."
Seymour pitched his French novel aside, and his in-
telligent face beamed with animation. The story was told
at length, and Seymour warmly congratulated the speaker
upon his astuteness and intelligence.
“I quite agree with you," Seymour said. “If Car-


In the Vault
243
rington's good name is to be saved at all, that bogus
burglary must take place to-night."
" By the way!” Jack exclaimed. “There is one thing
I quite forgot to tell you—that is the little adventure I
had last night at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. I found
an invalid gentleman there—or, at least, he found me
who seems to know all about Anstruther and his move-
ments. He knows you, too; indeed, he seemed to be
overjoyed that you are in England. He had some hesita-
tion in mentioning his own name, but he said that if I gave
you a certain ring which is now in my possession, you
would understand everything."
Jack laid the ring upon the table, and Seymour pounced
upon it like a hawk would pounce upon a mouse. A grim
smile played about the corners of his mouth, but, self-
controlled as he was, he could not altogether hide his
feelings.
“ Tell me all that happened with my friend last
night," he asked. “ It has an important bearing on this
case.”
Jack proceeded to explain, Seymour listening in an
attitude of rigid attention.
"This is the best news I have heard for some time," he
said. “You can make your mind quite easy on one thing
-Anstruther has nearly shot his bolt. After to-morrow I
will get you to arrange a meeting between myself and my
old friend at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. Meanwhile,
there is much to be done. It is quite certain that great
things are going to happen at the City and Provincial
Bank to-night. I think we shall have a pleasant little sur-
prise for Anstruther and Co."
Seymour rose, and took a roll of tissue paper from a
small safe in the corner of the room.
« These are the plans of the City and Provincial Bank,"
he explained the plans that came so luckily into our
hands last night. I have studied them very carefully.
As a matter of fact, I did not come straight home last
night, but passed the hours till nearly daylight prowling
about the bank. Without the plans, my scheme would be


244
The Yellow Face
quite futile; but I think now that I have the whole thing
very prettily mapped out. Just come and look at this
with me. It is really very simple.”
As Seymour had said, the plan was simplicity itself. It
not only gave a very intelligent idea of the situation of the
vaults and strong rooms, but also the back premises and the
lanes behind were clearly marked.
“Now I want you to follow this very carefully," Sey-
mour went on. “We can ignore the front of the building
altogether, because that faces on Gresham Street. Here
the police pass the same premises every three minutes, so
that nobody could force an entrance that way, not even the
would-be burglars with their keys. But if you look at the
rear of the place, you will see that there is a small alley
leading out of Farringdon Lane, and this alley ends by a
kind of back entry into the bank which is used by the care-
taker. I have ascertained that there are two night watch-
men, so that there is not much danger of trouble. By the
side of this door is a small window, the latch of which I
have ascertained to be defective.
“I suppose no one has ever troubled to see to this, for
the simple reason that admission to the bank premises by
no means implies getting to that part of the building which
is devoted to business purposes. Not that we particularly
want to penetrate very far, because it is our scheme to
watch what is going on, so that we may be able to con-
front the scoundrels when the proper time comes. A care-
ful examination of these plans shows me that we shall be
able to get as far as the bank proper, which means the
counting house, and from thence down the steps to the
vaults where the strong rooms are situated."
“Have you got keys of all these?" Jack asked,
“There will be no necessity for us to provide keys,"
Seymour chuckled. “You see, Anstruther and Co. will
be bound to enter the bank from the back premises. By
learning this plan off by heart, we come to know exactly
which way they will get to the vaults. Of course, they
will come provided with keys-Carrington will see to that.
All we have to do is to hide under a counter or something


In the Vault
245
of that sort, and wait till our friends come along. Natu-
rally, they will not dream that any one is on the premises
besides themselves. As to the rest, you must leave that
to me and fortune. You had better stay here and dine,
and we can set out for the City about eleven o'clock."
It seemed to both Rigby and Masefield that it would be
impossible to improve upon this plan. They dined com-
fortably and discreetly, and it was somewhere about half-
past eleven when they turned their faces in the direction
of the City. No one appeared to notice them, for they
walked rapidly along, with the air of men who had busi-
ness before them, and the police appeared to be few and
far between. They came at length to the little alley at
the rear of the bank, and here it behoved them to be
cautious. They waited till the beat of the policeman's
feet died away down the lane, and then they darted down
the dark entry. Seymour produced a tiny electric torch
from his pocket.
“There is the window," he whispered. “I am going
to get on your shoulders, Mr. Rigby. Once I am through,
I can pull you others up. There is no sort of danger.”
“Oh, but there is,” Jack protested. “You have
utterly forgotten one thing-did you not tell me there
were two night watchmen on the premises ?"
Seymour chuckled, and was understood to say that
they would find Anstruther had removed that difficulty for
them. Seymour seemed so sure of his ground that Jack
waived his protest. A minute later Seymour was through
the window, and the others followed swiftly. Rather
recklessly, or so it seemed to Jack, Seymour waved his
electric torch so as to form a line of light in front. He
smiled grimly as he pointed to two unconscious figures
reclining back as if hopelessly drunk in a pair of deep
armchairs. They came so suddenly upon the unfortunate
victims that Jack fairly started. But so far as Seymour
was concerned, he had appeared to have expected some-
thing of the kind. He again chuckled hoarsely.
" What did I tell you ?” he asked. “Did I not say
that Anstruther and Co. would very kindly get the care-


246
The Yellow Face
takers out of the way for us? You see the caretakers
would have been just as much of a nuisance to them as
they are to us. They have been carefully hocussed, and
not until an alarm is given in the morning will they be in
a position to say anything."
The last danger being apparently removed, the trio
proceeded to make their way to the bank premises proper,
and there made themselves as comfortable as possible
under one of the counters in the counting house. It was
very quiet there, so quiet that they could hear the tramp-
ing footsteps of the police outside, and the singing of
some belated reveler. They lay there till they heard the
great clock of St. Paul's strike the hour of one. There
was a sound then of heavy footsteps tramping along the
corridor, and presently a great blaze of light filled the
counting house. It was perfectly safe, for the heavy iron
shutters excluded every ray from the outside. Seymour
rose cautiously, then ducked his head again.
“ Just look,” he whispered. “Make sure who it is."
Rigby raised his head cautiously, too. The light fell
full upon the face of the intruder —the white, stern face
of Anstruther.
“Now for it,” Seymour whispered; "the play is about
to begin."


CHAPTER XXXV
THE CELLINI PLATE
So far as Anstruther was concerned, he might have
been going about his usual business. He evidently had
no fear on the score of interruption, and, indeed, there
was little cause, seeing that the bank was so substantially
built, and that from top to bottom the windows were pro-
tected with iron shutters.
“There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of," he said.
“Good gracious, man, have you no pluck at all? I de-
clare when I look at you that I could kick you as one does
a cowardly cur."
But Carrington was impervious to insult. His face was
ghastly, and the strong glare of the electric lights showed
the beads of moisture upon his forehead.
“ It is all very well for you," he growled. “The
greater the danger the better you seem to like it.”
" There isn't any danger,” Anstruther protested.
"Didn't you tell me that the police had no special orders
as far as the bank was concerned? And everybody knows
you have two night watchmen. Besides oh, I have no
patience with you!"
Anstruther turned away from the other, and began to
fumble with the lock of a small black bag which he carried
in his hand. He signified to Carrington that the latter
should lead the way to the vaults below. Carrington
produced a bunch of keys from his pocket. Anstruther
sneered openly.
“Oh, that's it," he said. “Going to make it all
smooth for us, are you? Of all the fools I ever came
across! Why not go outside and tell everybody what we
are going to do? Those are all patent shove locks, which
the most expert thief could never pick, and you are going
to tell the police later on that they have been opened with
247


The Cellini Plate
249
It was possible to find a secure hiding-place in the thick
darkness outside the radius of the two electric lights. It
was an interesting mornent, and even Seymour was con-
scious of a sensation of excitement.
“ Stand back," Anstruther said. “Everything is
ready. You had better lie down on your face, as I am
using six charges now instead of one. If they all go off
together the thing will be accomplished to our mutual
satisfaction.”
The hint was not lost upon the listeners. There was a
moment of intense excitement, and then came a dull,
heavy roar, that seemed to shake the building almost to
its foundations. Almost before the reverberations had
died away, the huge door of the strong room swayed with
a zigzag motion, and came smashing on the floor.
“There,” Anstruther cried triumphantly. “What do
you think of that, my friend? I flatter myself that that
is a real workmanlike job. All you have to do now is
to keep a stiff upper lip, and give the police all the infor-
mation they require. Anything of value inside?"
"Not very much, I am afraid,” Carrington responded.
“A fair amount of old family plate, and perhaps twenty
or thirty thousand pounds' worth of securities. I suppose
we had better leave all that there ; look better, don't you
think?"
“Leave your head there," Anstruther sneered. “Now
I put it to you, as a man supposed to be possessed of
sense-would any thief leave a single item of value
behind ?"
Anstruther asked the question with a contemptuous
curl of his lip. He was wiping his hands now on a piece
of greasy cotion waste in which the dynamite cartridges
had been wrapped to prevent contact.
" This is going to be a unique sort of burglary," he
continued. “Trot out what you've got in the way of
plate, and I'll take my pick of it as a kind of fee in reward
for my night's service. If there is one soft place in my
heart, it is for antique silver. Take your time-we are not
in the least likely to be interrupted.'


250
The Yellow Face
With his coat off and his shirt sleeves turned up, Carring-
ton set to work in earnest. Once he had plunged head-
long into the business, he seemed to have lost all his nerv-
ousness and hesitation. One after the other the great
wooden cases were turned out and examined by Anstruther
as eagerly as a schoolboy pores over something new in the
way of a bird's nest. Presently he held aloft a magnifi-
cent specimen of a silver dish. It was perfectly plain :
fine old hammered silver, bearing a quaint design around
the edge.
“Benvenuto Cellini for a million," he cried. “Dish
and ewer, together with a set of the finest posset cups I've
ever seen. How much over ten thousand pounds would
this fetch at Christie's? Well, I'm very sorry for the late
owner, but exceedingly pleased so far as I am concerned.
I'll take this for my fee, Carrington."
The two dived into the strong room again, where they
appeared to be overhauling other boxes of treasure. The
gleams of the electric light fell upon the service of plate
which Anstruther had so greatly admired. By its side, in
strange contrast, laid a piece of cotton waste with which
Anstruther had wiped his hands a minute or two before.
Without a word of warning to his companions, Seymour
darted across the floor of the vault; and, seizing the cot-
ton waste, proceeded to rub it vigorously over the surface
of the service of plate which Anstruther had marked
down for his own.
His conduct was so unexpected and so peculiar, that
Jack and Rigby could only look at one another in astonish-
ment. They did not know in the least what to make of
this extraordinary mancuvre on the part of their colleague.
But there was evidently much method in his madness; he
was not in the least likely to run the risk of detection to
gratify an apparently meaningless whim. He was back
again an instant later, and Jack could hear him chuckling
to himself as if he had accomplished something quite out
of the common. He seemed to feel that some explanation
was necessary.
“I dare say you thought that peculiar," he said ; “but


The Cellini Plate
251
you will understand all in good time. I didn't go out of
my way to spoil everything for the mere sake of playing
amateur housemaid.”
Apparently the task which Anstruther and Carrington
had set themselves was finished by this time, for they came
out of the strong room empty handed. All the same, their
figures appeared to be pretty bulky, and doubtless their
pockets were well filled with illicit gain.
“But you don't mean to carry that stuff home," Car-
rington protested. “Well known as you are, it would be
an act of criminal folly to carry that plate through the
streets at this time of the morning. As to myself '
“But have you no private safe of your own ?" An-
struther asked. “The same remark you made to me just
now applies to you. Is there anything more to wait
for?”
Carrington disappeared within the strong room again for
a last look round, followed by Anstruther. They had no
sooner disappeared than Seymour was on his feet again,
making hurriedly for the stairway leading to the counting
house. He had not been gone many seconds before there
came stumbling noisily down the stairs the form of one of
the night watchmen, rubbing his eyes drowsily, and asking
what was going on. It was quite evident to Rigby
and Jack that Seymour had deliberately aroused the
sleeping man for some subtle purpose of his own. The
man cried out again to know what all this meant, and
Carrington and Anstruther came darting from the strong
room.
“By heaven! He has come to his senses,” Anstruther
muttered. “I thought that dose was quite strong enough.
I am very sorry, but seeing that he has learned so
much -
There was murder in Anstruther's eyes, and Carrington
saw it. Still dazed and stupid from the result of the
drug, the watchman was gazing about him like a man just
emerging from a heavy bout of intoxication. It was
evident that he did not recognize his employer, though
senses and reason were fast coming back to him. As


252
The Yellow Face
he staggered towards the strong room door a murderous
look crept into Anstruther's eyes again, and something
bright gleamed in his hand. Carrington hastened for-
ward.
“No, no," he cried hoarsely. “I will have none of
that. I have gone too far already. I could bear with
imprisonment, but the mere thought of a noose round my
neck -
He almost staggered up to the dazed watchman, and
shook him violently. The latter seemed to comprehend
at length.
"Wake up, Gregory," Carrington stammered. “There
has been a burglary here. I had occasion to come down
to the bank for something, and found that the premises
had been broken into. Go for the police."
Anstruther studied the watchman's features with broody,
malignant eyes. His quick brain was working rapidly.
It was quite evident that the watchman had not yet fully
grasped the situation. It would be some time before he
could find a policeman and give him a fairly coherent ac-
count of what had happened.
“ Not a moment to be lost,” he cried. “Let us go up-
stairs at once to your room and lock all this stuff up in
your private safe. No one will think of looking for it there.
Now don't say you haven't got the key with you.”
Carrington nodded breathlessly, and immediately An-
struther began to pack up the Cellini service of plate
which had so greatly fascinated him.
" Come on at once," he said. “Let us get this stuff in
hiding, and then we can face the police."
They had only to don their coats again and make their
way as soon as possible to Carrington's private room. As
they passed up the stairs Seymour signed to his companions
to follow.
They were only just in time, for as they emerged into
the alley the watchman was returning with the constable.
They squeezed close against the wall, securing the friendly
cover of the darkness, and a moment later they were in
Gresham Street.


The Cellini Plate
253
“What is to be done next?" Rigby said.
“I think that is pretty obvious," Seymour chuckled.
“So far as I can see this is a nice little job for Inspector
Bates."


CHAPTER XXXVI
A STROKE OF POLICY
JACK nodded significantly to his companion, as much as
to signify that Seymour must be allowed to have his own
way. The latter had taken the matter into his own hands
from the first. It was quite evident that he was working
out some deep and subtle scheme, and the others were
disposed to give him a free hand.
* Would you like to see Bates now ?" Jack asked.
“ Most emphatically not," Seymour laughed. “ It is
no cue of mine to come in contact with the police until I
have seen my way quite clear. Besides, you are by no
means certain yet that Bates will be put on to this case,
and be given the opportunity of investigating the startling
burglary at the City and Provincial Bank. Again, it may
be too much for Bates's nerves if I burst upon him sud-
denly, and he recognizes me as the dead Nostalgo who was
so mysteriously spirited from Shannon Street police station.
No; on the whole, I should prefer that you should go and
see Bates alone. Tell him exactly what happened and
what you saw to-night, leaving me out of the question.
Then come and see me some time to-morrow afternoon,
and I will tell you what to do next."
“ One moment," Rigby exclaimed, as Seymour was
turning away. “What was that idea of yours about the
cotton waste ?"
Seymour winked significantly, and remarked that it was
time he was in bed. With a cheery nod to his compan-
ions, he turned his face in an easterly direction and strolled
off down the street.
“Now there's a clever man for you,” Rigby cried.
" Quite as clever a man as Anstruther, and I should say a
great deal more subtle. But let us go as far as Shannon
Street police station, and tell Bates our story."
254


A Stroke of Policy
255
Bates had been detained rather late. He had only just
come in, and was preparing to go home when the two
friends entered. He had no need to ask if they had any-
thing of importance to communicate to him-he could
glean that from the expression of the friends' faces. He
led the way to his private room, and passed the cigarettes
across the table.
“It's about Carrington," Rigby explained. " But per-
haps I had better go back a bit, and tell you one or two
little things you don't know."
It was a fairly long story, and it thoroughly aroused
Bates to a sense of action. His questions were clear and
intelligent; he followed the narrative, punctuating it here
and there with shrewd suggestions.
“ Mind you,” he said. “I have been expecting some-
thing like this for a long time. All the same, I can see
that you gentlemen have only told me half the story.
Still, I can't complain, especially as I see my way to make
a good thing out of this. When I tell the people at Scot-
land Yard all I know they are pretty sure to put me on the
case-indeed, I will make a special favor of it. You say
that you saw Anstruther blowing up all those locks, and
you are pretty sure that the great bulk of the plunder is in
Carrington's private safe. You don't suggest that An-
struther carried that service of plate home with him ?".
" Anstruther wouldn't be such a fool," Rigby said
curtly. “He is much too cool a hand for that. He will
feel quite sure that the stuff is perfectly safe where it is,
and fetch it away from the City a bit at a time. Of
course, he won't do this till the affair has blown over and
he is quite safe in so doing.'
Bates was inclined to share the speaker's opinion.
There was no more to be said for the present, and he inti-
mated his intention to go up to Scotland Yard and ask the
authorities to put him on the case. Jack and Rigby went
their respective ways, a clock somewhere striking two
when they parted at length.
Precisely as Bates had prophesied, the mysterious bur-
glary at the City and Provincial Bank caused the greatest


256
The Yellow Face
sensation the following morning. The later editions of the
evening papers were full of it. Carrington had been inter-
viewed by more than one bright reporter ; indeed, he had
been dragged out of bed for the purpose, and he had been
understood to say that the bank's loss could not fall far
short of a million unless the thieves could be promptly ar-
rested. The story was vividly told, Carrington's distress
and agitation being expressly accentuated.
But this was not the worst part of the distracted
bank manager's story. There had been in the possession
of the bank a tremendous lot of valuable personal property
belonging to various esteemed clients. All this had dis-
appeared, and more than one great lady in London was
mourning the loss of her fanily jewels. The greatest
sympathy was felt with the bank; it was only one or two
carping critics who were asking questions.
They were pertinent questions, too; a desire, for in-
stance, to know what Carrington could possibly be doing
on the bank premises at so late an hour. But these were
merely pin pricks, and the great bulk of the population
felt nothing but sympathy for Carrington. The only
people who had a fairly good grip of the real state of the
case besides Rigby and his companions were the Bar-
mouths and Claire Helmsley, Jack saw Claire in Lady
Barmouth's drawing-room late the following morning, and
explained to her and Lady Barmouth what had happened
the night previous.
“ It is most mysterious," Claire said, “and almost im-
possible to believe that my guardian had anything to do
with the matter. I dined very quietly at home last night,
and sat up till long past one finishing a novel in which I
was deeply interested. I can assure you of this—that from
half-past nine till the time I went to bed Mr. Anstruther's
violin practically did not cease. If I were brought into
the case as a witness, I should be bound to swear that my
guardian was in his study during the whole time that the
burglary was taking place."
« That is another phase of the mystery that we have to
solve," Jack said. “It is all very clever and very in-


A Stroke of Policy
257
genious and very useful, but seeing is believing. After
all, Anstruther was there last night, as three of us are pre-
pared to testify."
" Then in that case I shall never see my jewels again,"
Lady Barmouth said. “But what are the police going to
do about it, Mr. Masefield ? The thing cannot be pos-
sibly allowed to remain here. If they were to arrest Mr.
Carrington at once and search his safe — ".
“But the police don't work quite in that way," Jack
interrupted. « Besides, Carrington is not the only one.
The chief villain in the play is Spencer Anstruther; and at
the present moment he is in a position to prove a perfect
alibi. It is not the slightest use laying Carrington by the
heels till we are in a position to prove Anstruther's alibi to
be nothing but an ingenious mechanical fraud. Don't you
recollect the case of the Phoenix Park murders? In that
case the police could have laid their hands upon half the
culprits within a few days. They preferred to wait months,
until every one of the gang were swept up in the meshes
of the law. I will go and see Bates presently, and ascer-
tain if he has anything fresh to tell us."
It was quite late in the afternoon before Jack managed
to get a few words with the inspector. He seemed to be
very cheerful and sanguine, and dropped a hint to the
effect that his morning had not been altogether wasted.
"Oh, we are going on, right enough,” he exclaimed in
answer to Jack's question. “In the circumstances, they
can do nothing else. Most of my morning has been spent
in calling on the various unfortunate people whose val-
uables were deposited at Carrington's bank, and getting a
full description of the same. After that I made the rounds
of the principal pawnbrokers and such people as advance
money on real property."
“ Did you find anything of the missing stuff ?" Jack
asked eagerly. "I mean, did you see any of it?"
Bates explained that up to now he had been successful
in three instances. He knew where to lay his hands upon
the tiara of diamonds that had only been deposited with
Carrington four days ago.


258
The Yellow Face
" It belongs to one of our fashionable society leaders,"
he explained, “and really is a most magnificent piece of
work. Mind you, Carrington must have been a great fool,
or he must have been desperately pressed for money, to
pledge these things in London. He could have sent them
to Amsterdam or Paris, where they could have been broken
up and disposed of in such a manner that it would have
been impossible to trace them. This might have entailed
a financial sacrifice, but see how safe it would have been.
I feel pretty sure that within the next two days I shall
trace every atom of the lost property."
“ But it is usual to pledge such valuable jewels in this
casual way?" Jack asked.
“Certainly it is. The thing has been done over and
over again. In a great many instances the lady does not
go through the ordeal herself, but sends a maid or some
confidential servant with a note addressed to the pawn-
broker, and asks for ten thousand pounds, or whatever it
may be. That is how this business has been worked.".
" But the pawnbrokers ?" Jack protested. " When
they come to see a list of the missing jewels a full story
must be told."
Bates admitted the ingenuity of the suggestion. It was
just possible that there was danger in that direction. Still,
as he pointed out, no one could blame the pawnbrokers
for not recognizing from a bald printed description certain
gems pledged at their establishments.
“But I think you can leave that safely to me," he said.
“ There is nothing to prevent me from applying for a war-
rant for the arrest of Carrington, and producing all that
damping evidence from his private safe ; but by doing this
we are practically allowing a greater ruffian to escape."
Jack cordially agreed with this view of the case. He
proceeded to speak at some length as to what he had seen
and heard the night before last in Carrington's smoking-
room.
“ You must not forget," he said, “that the man who
was with me on that occasion is in possession of the du-
plicate plans of the bank cellars."


A Stroke oi Policy
259
“Oh, no,” Bates cried. “I have not overlooked those
plans; in fact, I particularly wish to have a glance at
them. And, by the way, sir, you appear to be very reti-
cent over the name of the companion who was with you on
that important occasion."
“We will merely call him Seymour," Jack said, cau-
tiously.
Bates smiled in a queer, significant kind of way.
"I will be more candid with you than you are with
me," he suid, “though you have told me more than you
intended. Now, tell me if my suspicions are correctis
not this Seymour' and our missing Nostalgo one and
the same person? It is a mere deduction on my part,
but - "
“I suppose I had better admit it at once,” Jack said.
“Besides, you are bound to know sooner or later. Why
not come with me and see Mr. Seymour now ?"
Bates replied that he would be only too delighted. They
set off together without delay, and presently found them.
selves at Seymour's residence. The latter was doing
something mysterious with a file and a pair of handcuffs,
both of which he threw aside as his visitors entered. He
extended his hand cordially to Bates.
"I am not in the least surprised to see you, inspector,"
he said. “In fact, I rather wanted to do so. Now,
frankly speaking, are you not a little puzzled to know how
to lay Anstruther by the heels ? "
“We will come to that presently, sir," Bates said
quietly. “I shall be glad in the first place to know what
hold Anstruther has on you gentlemen who have so suf-
fered at his hands. Anstruther is a blackmailer, I know.
But you are a man of pluck and courage—why can't you
fight him in the open? I can quite understand that there
are others broken in health and spirit, who dare not have
their story told and dragged before the diabolical curiosity
of the cheap press. But in your case, why, it seems to
me "
" Yes, yes," Seymour interrupted. "But suppose you
have a dear friend in whom you are interested? And


260
The Yellow Face
that friend had done somebody a great wrong? And sup-
posing that Anstruther knew all this? My friend is poor,
but I am not. Let us go farther and grant my friend a
daughter-a beautiful girl who is just coming to the front
in the world of art. She is passionately attached to her
father; any disgrace to him would break her heart. And
it is in my power to save this dear child by letting An-
struther believe that both myself and others who have suf-
fered are afraid of him. Surely you have heard of many
such cases, Mr. Bates?"
Bates nodded. The field was clearing wonderfully.
• You will pardon me," he said. “ It was stupid of
me not to think of that before. The blackmailer generally
strikes through the innocent. But another question.
Why did Anstruther publish those Nostalgo posters at all ?"
" There, tot certain extent, you have me,” Seymour
confessed. “You see, it is only recently that we Nos-
talgos have drifted together in London. We must give
Anstruther credit for having discovered this. Mind you,
there may be many others who have suffered, and are now
hiding in silence. They would be nerveless wrecks for
the most part. Anstruther probably wanted to let them
know that the terror was not dead. You see, it is like the
sign of some secret society, reminding members of the long
arm. But who can say what was uppermost in the mind
of Anstruther ? Suppose that the whole dramatic thing
had failed in its purpose? What then? Why, Anstruther
would have probably turned the posters to some business
purpose-a new soap, a novel kind of pill—why, many
business houses would gladly buy the reversion of the
Nostalgo posters, and make a good thing out of them. I
may be wrong, but that is my view. Besides, how are we
to know how many other Nostalgos have not dropped into
Anstruther's net through those diabolical posters ?"
" It is possible you are right,” Bates admitted. “Noth-
ing seems to be impossible in the way of crime. But as
to Anstruther?"
“I have a heavy debt to pay to him," Seymour said,
with a ring in his voice. “And I am in a position to


A Stroke of Policy
261
show you how you can lay him by the heels. I presume
my friend Masefield has told you everything. That being
so, all you have to do is to open Carrington's private safe,
and carefully remove a service of Cellini plate which you
will find there. When I say carefully, I mean carefully-
the thing is not to be fingered. Take it away to the police
station, and place it in your glass case. Then, if you fol-
low my advice, within eight and forty hours I pledge you
that you shall have evidence against Anstruther as clear
and convincing as if it had come from heaven itself.”
A silence followed, so impressive was Seymour's speech.
Then Bates, who appeared to be utterly puzzled, promised
that the thing should be done. At the same moment,
there was the sound of an altercation on the outer landing,
and a hoarse voice was heard asking some imperative ques-
tion. The voice struck familiarly on Jack's ears. He
glanced significantly at Bates.
“ The very man himself,” he cried.
“ Yes, Anstruther," Seymour said, in his deep, ringing
voice. “ Friend Anstruther. Shall we ask him in ?"


CHAPTER XXXVII
A PREGNANT MESSAGE
There was no mistaking the fact that it was Anstruther
who was standing outside and speaking in tones which de-
noted that he was not altogether pleased with himself. It
might have been a coincidence, or, at the same time, it
might have been intentional; though the latter suggestion
did not appear probable.
“Surely he can't have found us out yet," Jack cried.
“ If he had done so it would hardly be policy to make so
much noise about it. What do you think, Mr. Bates ?"
Bates responded cautiously that he did not know what
to think. The real solution came from Seymour.
“ There is no coincidence about it at all," he said.
“We know perfectly well that Anstruther is a clever
criminal, but even clever criminals cannot bring off im-
portant campaigns without the aid of subordinates. I
have not taken up my quarters here entirely by accident,
though, of course, it was necessary for me to be as far off
the beaten track as possible. I have seen Anstruther here
on more than one occasion, and I think you will find he
has come to consult one of his satellites."
" There must be a good few shady people here," Bates
observed, “though I don't know much about the lo-
cality."
Seymour explained that there were plenty of doubtful
characters living in the tenement. He suspected at least
three burglars who had rooms on the same floor. Prob-
ably Anstruther was looking for one of these, and for some
reason or other the fellow had denied himself. The loud
tones had ceased now, and it was evident that Anstruther
had either left the house or found the man of whom he was
in search. The discovery, however, was too important to
be allowed to rest like that, and Bates had a proposition to
262


A Pregnant Message
263
make. He suggested the advisability of putting one of his
own spies on to watch Anstruther and keep an eye upon
him for the rest of the day. There would not be the
slightest uncertainty about this, seeing that Anstruther was
so well known to the police generally.
Bates crept carefully away, and returned presently
with the information that Anstruther was still on the
premises.
"I met one of my men in the street," he explained.
“He was just back from a job this way, and spotted
Anstruther coming in here. Our friend is not likely to
shake off the fellow that I have put upon his track. Mean-
while, we are wasting time here."
Seymour was decidedly of the same opinion. A minute
or two later the trio made their way into the street, leaving
Seymour alone. He had been informed by Bates that he
would be kept posted of Anstruther's movements by means
of special messenger, and that his services would be called
upon if necessary. Thus assured, Seymour went back to
his mysterious business with the handcuffs and file, quite
content to wait till his time came.
It was quite dark before the first message arrived.
Anstruther had stayed where he was till seven o'clock,
after which he had gone out and called at a neighboring
shop, which was kept by a man engaged in the occupation
of making brass plates. This, so the message said, was
merely a blind for the manufacture of the finest specimens
of burglars' tools. Anstruther had entered the shop with
nothing in his hand, but had emerged presently carrying
a small square parcel which might have been a picture
frame. Thus encumbered, he had returned to the tene-
ment, and was now closeted in the set of rooms below
Seymour's with a man called Gillmore, otherwise “Simple
Charlie," a cracksman who stood quite at the head of his
profession.
Seymour's eyes gleamed as he glanced over the letter.
He felt that he must be up and doing something. It
occurred to him as a good idea to make an attempt to be
present at the interview between Anstruther and his com-


264
The Yellow Face
federate. It was absolutely dark now, so that Seymour
had no hesitation in raising his sitting-room window, which
faced the back of the house, and seeking to find some
means for entering the set of rooms below.
So far as he could see at first, the thing appeared to be
impossible. His quick eye noted the fact that a powerful
light burned in the room below, for the shadow of it was
thrown strongly upon the blank wall opposite. To the left
of Seymour's window was a large drain pipe used for con-
veying the rain water from the roof to the sewer below. It
was an easy matter for Seymour to lash a rope firmly to the
floor with the aid of a handspike, and to gently lower him-
self to the floor below by means of the pipe. The business
was no easy one when it came to climbing proper, and only
a strong man like Seymour could have possibly done it.
He dangled thus perilously in mid air, working his way
down inch by inch, till at length his feet rested on the sill
of the window below.
As he had half expected, the window was without a
catch, which was quite in accordance with most of the
fittings in the tenement. Leaving his rope to dangle
harmlessly within reach until it would be required again,
Seymour passed coolly into the room. He rubbed a match
cautiously, and by the aid of it saw that he was in a small
bedroom evidently devoted to the uses of some bachelor,
for the bed had been made in a most perfunctory way, and
the floor was liberally strewn with tobacco ash. Lying
on the table was a plan of some large mansion, with foot-
notes here and there plainly denoting the fact that the
house had been marked down for some ingenious burglary.
Seymour smiled to himself.
He had evidently found his way into the quarters of
which he was in search. Listening intently, with his ear
closely glued against the wall, he could detect the sound
of voices on the other side. He was not personally ac-
quainted with the voice of “ Simple Charlie," but the
round, full tones of Anstruther were quite familiar to him.
Seymour was, however, not content merely to listen to
what was going on. Very softly he made his way from


A Pregnant Message
265
the bedroom into the passage beyond. The door of the
next room was not closed ; indeed, there was no reason for
the precaution, seeing that the door at the end of the
passage was locked. There was a pungent smell of
tobacco, mingled with the odor of a good cigar, and pres-
ently the loud pop of a cork and the fizzing gurgle of what
Seymour rightly guessed to be champagne. By creeping
close and twisting a little sideways, Seymour got a fairly
good view of the room.
He could see Anstruther lounging in a comfortable arm-
chair, a cigar in his mouth, apparently quite at home in his
humble surroundings. The other man was sucking moodily
at a short pipe, and glanced uneasily at his companiun.
He was not much like the commonly accepted type of
burglar, being slight and dark, and somewhat timid-looking
in appearance. But every now and again the glance he
turned upon Anstruther was positively murderous in its
hateful intensity.
“Now, what on earth are you driving at, guv'nor?” he
growled. “ No getting at the bottom of you. I never feel
like a fool except when I am working for you."
" That, my good Charles," Anstruther said smoothly,
o is where education comes in. If you had had my ad-
vantages you might have stood very high indeed. As it
is, you are an exceedingly good workman, and I, though
I say it that should not, am a very good master. I sup-
pose you know perfectly well that I am in a position to
give you away at any moment. I could hand you over to
the police, who would take very good care of you for the
next fourteen years, and you could not give me a simple
scratch in return. For instance, we will suppose it is my
whim to identify you with that bank burglary last night.
Of course, you were not there, but I could prove that you
were, all the same. And no cleverness of yours could save
you from a conviction.”
Gillmore wriggled uneasily on his chair. His eyes fol-
lowed Anstruther's every movement like those of a dog
severely punished; there was a suggestion of the hound
that would have bitten his master if he dared.


266
The Yellow Face
“I know all about that,” he grunted. “And you
know I've got to do everything you ask me. It only
seems the other day that poor Brown defied you to do your
worst and lost his life over it. That was a lesson to me.
Not but what I wouldn't be ready and willing to knife you
if I thought it was safe. I am pretty bad, and so are some
of the others; but outside of hell itself there is no black-
hearted scoundrel as bad as you."
The man's voice fairly vibrated with passion; but
Anstruther lounged back in his chair with the air of a man
who has just received a high compliment. He was a man
who loved power. He liked to feel that he could pull the
strings and move the actions of other men even when they
fought desperately against his iron determination.
“All this is so much waste of time," he said. “I came
here to-night to get you to do something for me, and you
will have to do it, whether you want to or not. You know
what disobedience means-three hours' freedom, and four-
teen years in jail. No more of your confounded non-
sense; listen to what I have to say."
“Oh, I'll do it right enough," Gillmore growled.
“Mind you, it's a pretty big risk. The police have got an
idea that I was engaged in that Maidenhead business. I
know they've been watching me so close that I can't get
rid of a bit of stuff, and I have come down to my last
half-soy.”
“I'll see to that,” Anstruther replied. “What you
have to do now is to make your way into the Great Metro-
politan Hotel. You shall come with me presently, and I
will show you the room I want you to enter. To a man
of your ability the thing is ridiculously simple-quiet side
entrance, iron fire-escape ladder, and all the rest of it.
All you want is a few tools.'
“But I haven't got any,” Gillmore protested. “I was
glad enough to get away from that Maidenhead business
with a whole skin.'
Anstruther pointed significantly to the flat brown paper
parcel which he had brought in with him.
“ You will find everything you want there," he said.


268
The Yellow Face
while later, and he found himself engaging a room at the
Great Metropolitan. He appeared to be rather particular
about his choice, and finally decided that No. 18 would
suit his requirements. As he had expected, No. 18 was
exactly opposite the room chosen by Anstruther for Gill-
more's little plot. Once this was settled, it seemed to
Seymour that there was no occasion for hurry. It was
eleven o'clock before he made his way up to his bedroom.
He did not close the door, nor did he turn the light on.
He sat down grimly and patiently in the darkness to await
developments.
The corridor was perfectly silent now, and either the
occupants of the hotel had retired to rest, or had not yet
returned from the theatre. This was the time, Seymour
felt pretty certain, that Gillmore would set to work.
With his room door ajar, Seymour had a perfect view of
the room on the other side of the corridor. It seemed to
him that he could hear somebody now coming stealthily
down the passage. Then another sound grated on his ear
-it was an unmistakable cry of pain and fear from the
room opposite.
Seymour crossed the corridor and coolly entered the
room opposite.


CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE CRY IN THE NIGHT
THERE was a man in the room surely enough. He was
but half dressed; he had fallen forward over a table,
apparently in a state of collapse. He seemed to be seek-
ing something; and then Seymour saw that he was clutch-
ing at a bottle of brandy, of which he appeared to be in
evident need. There was no suggestion of intoxication
about him, so that Seymour had no hesitation in forcing
a few drops of the potent Auid between the man's pallid
lips.
Strange as the situation was, Seymour did not fail to
notice the extraordinary way in which his companion's
face was cut and scarred and bound with sticking plaster.
Then he suddenly realized to whose assistance he had
come. This was surely the man Jack Masefield had told
him about-the man who had sent him the ring, and who
knew the whole history of the Nostalgo business. The
invalid opened his eyes presently, and gazed in a dull kind
of way at Seymour.
“I have been ill," he said. “Since my operation I
have been accustomed to these kind of fainting fits. It
was very good of you to come to my assistance.'
“Not at all," Seymour said. “I was in my room on
the other side of the corridor, and I heard you cry out.
Is there anything more I can do for you?"
“Yes," the stranger said. There was a strange thrill
in his voice. “Take off that mask of yours, and let me
see my old friend Seymour once more. I should have
recognized your tones anywhere."
“I am glad that my old chum Ferris should recognize
me," Seymour said, in a voice that trembled a little.
“ But I dare say that you will wonder why I am here. I
can assure you it is no coincidence. But what have you
269


The Cry in the Night
271
look at me you will see that the repulsive hideousness has
gone."
Seymour gazed long and thoughtfully into the white
face of his companion. There was a sudden uplifting
of his heart, and the tears rushed to his eyes. It was no
ordinary weakness that moved him like this.
“I see, I see," he murmured. “Once you are yourself
again, you can defy Anstruther; indeed, he would not
know you at all. I have had to fight him at a terrible
disadvantage. If only I could remove this terrible scourge
from my face—then I could stand up to him, and his reign
would not be for long. But events are pressing so fast
that I could not possibly spare the time at present to fol-
low out the treatment to which you have been subjected.
But afterwards I shall be only too glad to place myself in
the same hands that you have been through. The mere
thought that some day or other I shall be able to walk the
streets like any other man that God has made, fills me
with such a joy that I could sit down and cry like a
child.
“But why be so fearfully afraid of Anstruther?" Sey-
mour asked.
“Because I am in his power,” Ferris whispered. “I
have done a great wrong in my time, and Anstruther
knows it. That fiend seems to discover everything. For-
tune has enabled me to redress the wrong, but Anstruther
holds the proofs of my guilt. I really ought to have gone
to my relatives and confessed everything, and defied him.
But with a face like mine!".
“I understand," Seymour said grimly. “But, unless
I am greatly mistaken - "
Seymour broke off suddenly, and snapped out the elec-
tric light. He took the astonished Ferris by the arm, and
fairly bundled him into his bedroom. There was no time
to explain. A fresh idea had suddenly come to Seymour,
and he decided to put it through. His quick ear had told
him that somebody was fumbling at the door of the sitting-
room, and that somebody could be none other than Gill-
more. The burglar had evidently not yet arrived, or Sey-


The Cry in the Night 273
haps, if you moisten your lips with a drop of this excellent
örandy."
Gillmore started at the mention of his name, but he did
not refuse the proffered stimulant. He saw that he had
been caught like a rat in a trap, and, like most of his
tribe, was prepared to make the best terms he could for
himself, regardless of his confederates.
" You might just as well make a clean breast of it,"
Seymour said. “You came here at the instigation of
Mr. Anstruther. Your task was an easy one for a man of
your abilities, but you see I happened to know that you
were coming, and that made all the difference. Is that
the letter on the table ?"
Gillmore growled out something to the effect that it was.
Ferris took up the letter, and read it carefully.
"Just as I expected," he murmured to Seymour. “A
mysterious communication from Anstruther, only An-
struther's name does not appear upon it. I am threatened
with all kinds of pains and penalties if I do not immedi-
ately part with the sum of five thousand pounds. And
you might tell me what you propose to do with this man.”
“Leave him here for the present," Seymour explained.
“We can take your doctor into our confidence, and
nobody will be any the wiser. It is a very odd thing to
me if we don't get some valuable information out of this
Gillmore. You may be certain of one thing-he could
tell us a great deal about Anstruther if he chose to speak.
If you will give me the address of your doctor, I will go off
and fetch him at once. Of course, I shall bring him here
as if he came to see you. I think you are quite safe with
the fellow."
Seymour went off presently, having donned his disguise
again, feeling that he had done a good night's work. His
first act was to telephone to Bates at Shannon Street police
station, and ask if the latter was still keeping an eye on An-
struther. Bates replied in person to the effect that every-
thing possible had been done in that direction. Anstruther
returned home about ten o'clock, and at present was amus-
ing himself with his violin in his own study. Bates, more-


274
The Yellow Face
over, had ascertained that Anstruther had no intention of
leaving the house again that night; in fact, he had told
one of his servants that he had caught a chill, froin all of
which it might be gathered that Bates's spy had been very
successful in his shadowing of Anstruther.
So far, everything was quite satisfactory. It only re-
mained now to call at Masefield's rooms, and acquaint him
with what had happened. But Jack was not in, his land-
lady informed Seymour; as a matter of fact, she had no
idea when he was coming back; indeed, he had gone off
somewhere to a fancy dress ball. It was then that Sey-
mour recollected that this was the night of Lady Bar-
mouth's great dance. A little at a loss to know what to
do next, Seymour went slowly off in the direction of
Panton Square. He hung about Anstruther's house for
some little time, still feeling dubious in his mind as to
whether the latter was really going out or not. He waited
long enough to see a carriage drive up to the door, and in
the brilliantly-lighted hall he could see a graceful figure in
fancy dress being carefully wrapped up by Anstruther him-
self, who came down the steps, and saw Claire into the
carriage. He appeared to be carefully muffled, and spoke
with a strained voice of one who suffers from a bad cold.
“I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear," he said.
“Pray convey to Lady Barmouth my sincere regrets and
apologies. In the circumstances I am sure she will excuse
me."
The carriage drove off, but still Seymour lingered there,
feeling quite sure that this was part of some scheme of
Anstruther's. He decided to wait, at any rate, for the
present, and for the best part of an hour he paced up and
down, till at length his search was rewarded. The light
in the study suddenly went out, though Seymour could
hear the music still going on, and then another figure
emerged from a porch. It was the figure of a man as-
suredly decked out in some fancy dress; but Seymour was
not in the least deceived, and knew perfectly well that he
was following Anstruther.
The latter walked right away until he came at length to


CHAPTER XXXIX
PREPARING THE WAY
SEYMOUR was not away longer than he had anticipated.
Only thirty-five minutes had elapsed before a cab drove up
to the house in Belgrave Square, from which descended a
tall man guised as a magician. It was not a particularly
original dress, but it thoroughly served the purpose which
Seymour had in hand. He wore a long red cloak, coming
down to his heels, the hem of which was embroidered with
queer signs and symbols. On his head was a black vel-
vet skull cap, and a long white beard and moustache com-
pleted the illusion.
Seymour stood still for a moment, and fumbled about as
if to find his card. Then Rigby, effectively disguised as
an executioner, came forward and proffered his services.
“ It's all right," he whispered. “I have been talking
it over with Mas efield, and he did not think it would be
prudent to meet you here a second time. Besides, we have
to be very careful; we are not aware how much Anstruther
knows. He might have got to the back of our plot for all
we know to the contrary."
“I did not quite catch how he was dressed," Seymour
said. “Would you mind telling me what he is wearing?"
Rigby proceeded to explain that Anstruther was rigged
out in a costume of some Indian tribe. He could be es-
pecially noticed by the exceedingly high plume of eagle's
feathers which he was wearing in his headdress. Sey-
mour chuckled aloud.
"I thought it all out as I came along," he said.
" When I saw Masefield a little time ago I only wanted to
come here more or less out of idle curiosity ; but a little
idea occurred to me as I called my cab. I am going to
thoroughly enjoy myself this evening; in fact, this is
the first time I have had an opportunity of mingling with
276


Preparing the Way
277
my fellow creatures for three years. But that is not the
point. If you keep fairly close to me you will have the
chance of seeing how I shall get on Anstruther's nerves
presently.”
• Do you mean to say you are going to begin at once?"
Rigby asked, " or would you not like to see Barmouth
first ?"
Seymour intimated that there was no hurry, and that the
little drama he had in his mind would be best played out
at supper time. That meal was intended to be a rather
fast and furious affair, where all the guests were sup-
posed to always act up to the characters which they per-
sonified.
“. Therefore I should very much like to see Barmouth,"
Seymour said. “If you can arrange a meeting for us in
some quiet spot I shall be exceedingly obliged to you."
Rigby went off, with an intimation that he would not be
long. He came back presently, and signified that Sey-
mour should follow him. The two proceeded as far as the
head of the staircase, and there, in a small room at the end
of the corridor, Barmouth stood awaiting Seymour's en-
trance. No sooner was the latter inside, than his host
closed and locked the door. He turned up the light, and
snatched his mask from his face. On the impulse of the
moment Seymour did the same.
Save for the difference of their coloring, the two men
were almost identically alike. Perhaps in the whole world
it would have been impossible to find two refined and
educated men so hideously and atrociously ugly. One
man's eyes were blue, the other one's dark-brown; but
this made no difference. All amiability of expression, all
frankness and sincerity, seemed to have been literally cut
out of their features. Most men would have turned from
them with loathing and disgust. They stood there look-
ing at one another, the very image of the Nostalgo posters
that London was still discussing so eagerly. As Seymour
dropped Barmouth's proffered hand, the latter burst into a
bitter laugh.
“ No reason to try and flatter ourselves," he said.


278
The Yellow Face
“When I look at you or you look at me, we both know
that we are forever outside the pale of civilized society.
We can make the most of an occasion like this, but these
happy hours are few and far between."
"Well, do you know, I am not so sure of that," Sey-
mour said. “Let me have a cigarette, and we will dis-
cuss the matter together. Do you happen to remember
Ferris ?"
Barmouth indicated that he remembered Ferris perfectly
well.
“In fact, we were all victims of the same ceremony,"
he said. “What a ghastly business it was! And that
fiend of an Anstruther looking on without a drop of pity
in his heart for his fellow countrymen, whose sole crime
was that they were in the hunt for gold like himself. But
I want to try and forget all that. Do you mean to say you
have met Ferris?"
“Ferris is at the Great Metropolitan Hotel at the pres-
ent moment," Seymour explained. “More or less acci-
dentally he ran against Masefield. Jack Masefield hap-
pened to mention that he knew me, and there you are.
However, I dare say you can get Masefield to tell you
the story another time. The point is, that Ferris has
discovered a brilliant French surgeon who has operated
upon him—he says, quite successfully. He is a mass of
plaster and knife marks now, but he says that in the
course of a few weeks he will have resumed his normal
expression."
A great cry broke from Barmouth. His agitation was
something dreadful to witness.
“Cured," he whispered. “ Absolutely cured and like
other men again. Oh, it seems like a dream; like some-
thing too good to be true. To think that you and I, old
friend, are going to stand out once more in the broad light
of day with no mask needed to conceal our hideousness !
You will undergo the operation ?".
“Ay, as soon as ever I have done with the Anstruther
business," Seymour said in his deep voice. “Once let
me see that rascal beyond the power of further mischief,


Preparing the Way
279
and I place myself in that man's hands at once, if it cost
me half my fortune. There is a girl waiting for me, Bar-
mouth-a girl who mourns me as dead. You can see how
impossible it was for me to let her know the truth.”
5. And yet my wife knows the truth,” Barmouth said
thoughtfully. "Hideous as I am, she refused to give me
back my freedom.”
" She is a woman of a million," Seymour said, not with-
out emotion ; “but then Lady Barmouth discovered the
truth. I don't think you ever would have told her on
your own initiative."
This was so true that Barmouth had nothing to say in
reply. He appeared to be deeply immersed in thought.
The settled melancholy of his face had given way to an
eager, restless expression. He was like a man in the desert
who, past all hope, had found aid at the last moment. He
paused in his stride and sat down.
“I dare not dwell upon the possibilities that you have
opened up before me," he said. “I had long abandoned
all kinds of hope. Still, there are plenty of useful years
before me. This is the first moment that I have felt what
happiness means since we fell into the hands of that gang
of Anstruther's. You will recollect, of course, the wild
stories that our tribesmen used to bring in to us about
what happened to anybody who dared to cross the gold
belt."
" The legend was very common out there," Seymour
said. “If you will recollect, it was popularly supposed
that some heathen god presided over the gold mines, and
that it was a sacrilege for any stranger to make an attempt
on the treasure. The natives there firmly believed that
the outraged god imposed upon the adventurers a disease
that rendered them so hideous that no man could ever
bear to look upon their faces again."
- They were not far wrong there," Barmouth said
grimly. “Or, where did those medicine men derive their
knowledge of surgery? I recollect very little that hap-
pened after I found myself gagged and bound in that
wonderful old temple, but I do know that one of those


280
The Yellow Face
priests operated upon me with a lancet. When I came to
myself, I was as you see me now. But you, too, went
through it in your turn."
Seymour shuddered with the horror of the recollection
of it.
“I don't think we need go into that," he said. “The
extreme punishment would never have been inflicted upon
us had it not been for Anstruther. With his wonderful
ascendancy over the tribe—and goodness knows how he
got it-he seemed to be able to persuade them to do any-
thing. The terror of it all, the hideous mystery, only
served to keep others away.”
“And yet Anstruther must have lost his ascendancy,"
Barmouth said, “or he would never have returned home
without bringing a huge fortune with him. We have abso-
lute proof of the fact that he is a poor man. But the truth
of that will never be known.”
“I am not so sure about that," Seymour said. “I hope
before long to be able to hold the whip over his shoulder
and force him to speak. I have my little scheme arranged,
and I fancy you will derive some little amusement if you
will watch the working of it. Of course, you know how
Anstruther is dressed?"
Barmouth was perfectly cognizant of Anstruther's dis-
guise.
" The dress of the old tribe," he said ; "with the
painted feathers, and all the rest of it. When he was
pointed out to me just now by Masefield I could hardly
restrain my feelings. Mind you, he is not here with a
mere view to social enjoyment. He declined my wife's
invitation. He told Miss Helmsley that he did not feel
well enough to turn up, and yet he is here like any other
invited guest. Now, what is he up to?"
" It would be hard to say what Anstruther is up to,"
Seymour replied. “ Doubtless he has some deep scheme
afoot; but he is not the only one, and we shall see who
gets the best of it in the long run.”
Barmouth was quite content to await developments.
Knowing Seymour so well, he felt quite sure that the latter


282
The Yellow Face
said. “ All the same, I am glad that there was no one
else present. An Englishman does not care to display his
feelings to an outsider."
Rigby was waiting as Jack had explained, and for some
little time the three sipped their champagne whilst they
talked over the situation.
“I want you two to be as near as possible to me at sup-
per time,” Seymour went on to explain. “And I want
you to take your cue from me when I give it you. Mind,
you must not look for any sensational developments—this
is merely a comedy for our private amusement. I am
going to give Anstruther a bit of a fright, and at the same
time force his hand, so that when he is prepared to move
he will play right up to us. As to the rest, keep your eye
on the magician !'
“I wish you would be a little more explicit," Jack said.
“My dear fellow, there is nothing to be explicit about.
Perhaps Anstruther will smell a rat, and decline to be
drawn into the thing at all. Still, I'm not much afraid of
that."
A clock somewhere struck the hour of midnight, and
a moment later the strains of the band died away. The
old family butler threw open the double doors leading to
the dining hall, and announced supper in a loud voice.
“Come along," Seymour said. “The play has com-
menced.”


CHAPTER XL
THE MAGICIAN SPEAKS
The dining hall presented an appearance quite as strik-
ing and imposing as the ballroom. It was magnificently
paneled with Elizabethan oak; the grand old buffets and
furniture dated from the same period. The supper was
laid out on a series of small tables forming a horseshoe,
so that it was possible to move from one to the other
without interruption. Each table had its separate electric
light stand, round which were trailed sprays of red roses.
With its shaded lights, its dim, carved walls, with its
glitter of crystal and glass, the room presented a picture
that was not easily forgotten. But there were other
things quite as important to think of as the artistic side
of the scene. A few moments later, and Anstruther came
in with a tall woman, whom Rigby instantly recognized as
a great society leader, on his arm. It was evident enough
that while Anstruther knew his supper partner perfectly
well, she was utterly puzzled as to his identity.
"So much the better for us,” Seymour said, as Jack
pointed this out to him. “But I must get back to my
partner. I want you to try and keep me a place at the
same table that Anstruther sits at. I hope you will man-
age to secure Lady Barmouth for me. You will recollect
that was to have been part of the programme."
The matter was arranged easily enough, and presently
Seymour and Lady Barmouth were seated opposite An-
struther and his companion. They had all at once
plunged gaily into an animated conversation. By this
time the guests had found their level, and had thoroughly
settled themselves down to enjoyment. It was just pos-
sible that a great many people recognized numbers of their
friends there, but for the most part the recognition was
ignored and the illusion maintained.
283


284
The Yellow Face
“Really this is a most charming picture," Seymour
said, addressing Anstruther in the friendliest fashion,
though he had taken great care to modulate his voice.
“ With all my skill in the art of magic I could not have
evolved a fairer scene than this. And my experience
dates back a thousand years."
" Quite the most respectable type of family magician,"
Anstruther laughed, as he helped himself liberally to
champagne. “ We are all so dreadfully modern nowa.
days. I suppose you have nothing to do with up-to-date
methods. No palmistry, I presume?"
Seymour was delighted to find Anstruther ready to take
up the spirit of the game.
“Nothing comes amiss to me," he said. “To conjure
up a scene like this would, perhaps, tax my efforts pretty
severely, but I should get there all the same. If anybody
requires a little something in the way of perpetual life or
untold gold, they have only to drop me a postcard and the
thing is as good as done."
“ Delightful,” Anstruther's partner cried. “I was just
wondering how I was going to settle my racing debts, and
now you come forward in the kindest way, and relieve
me of all further anxiety. It is really more than kind of
you.”
“As for me," Anstruther said, “I am concerned more
with the future than the past. I have a little scheme on
hand which is troubling me a good deal. Without going
into details, shall I be successful ? Now, can you tell me
that?"
Seymour gravely consulted a crystal ball, which he had
taken from the pocket of his flowing robe. Others were
listening by this time, for the conversation at Seymour's
table was both amusing and interesting. He looked up
from the ball in the same grave fashion.
“You are giving me a hard task,” he said. “I do not
know you; I have not even seen your face. And yet
your soul is reflected in my faithful crystal, and your
heart's desire lies bare before me."


The Magician Speaks
285
“But you have not told me if I shall be successful,"
Anstruther said. “That is the point, after all."
" You will not be successful," Seymour said in a loud
voice, which had the desired effect of attracting much atten-
tion to the speaker. “There is something dark that stands
between you and the thing you so much desire. The
crystal is not so clear as usual, but I can see in it a face.
It is a strange face-dark and repulsive, and yet absolutely
familiar. Yes, it is the face of the poster, the features of
which have puzzled London for the last three months. It
is this face which comes between you and your heart's de-
sire. Do I interest you?"
Quite a score of guests were listening by now. They
were thrilled and puzzled, and not a little interested.
Seymour was playing his part splendidly ; even Jack and
Rigby, who were in the plot, had to admit that. Nothing
could be seen as to the way in which Anstruther took this
shot, for his features were hidden behind his mask; but
Rigby noticed that his hands were clutched upon the edge
of the table-cloth, is if they were about the throat of some
hateful foe. Anstruther sat quite quietly, almost rigidly,
for a few moments, then burst into a hoarse, strident
laugh.
« This is ridiculous," he said. “Surely you must be
aware of the fact that those Nostalgo posters are nothing
more or less than a clever advertisement."
"Nevertheless, they have more to do with you than you
imagine," Seymour went on in the same grave way.
• They stand between you like a sheet and the execution
of your plans. Let me look into my crystal again. Ah,
the scene grows clearer. I see a ruined temple; I see
some weird religious ceremony, and the unconscious form
of a man laid out for a sacrifice. He rises at length; he
is no longer good to look upon, his face has become the
face of Nostalgo. Call it foolish if you like "
With a cry of something like anger, Anstruther rose
to his feet. He seemed to suppress himself almost im-
mediately, then sat down again.
“ Capital ! " he exclaimed. “I dare say it is exceed-


286
The Yellow Face
ingly clever, but, at the same time, so much Greek to me.
What I want is information about the future."
"I should say you are a traveled man," Seymour said
calmly. “You have spent a great deal of your time in
adventure abroad. Now, let me hazard a guess. You
have been in Mexico ?"
Anstruther curtly admitted that such was the fact. In
spite of the gravity of the whole thing, and Seymour's ad-
mirable acting, he was getting nervous and excited. He
would have given much to have removed the mask of his
tormentor and studied the face behind.
“ It is the little trifles of life that interest you, then,"
Seymour said. “I am afraid you are very material, sir.
Well, we will be prosaic if you like. For instance, my
crystal tells me that you are fond of works of art; in
fact, you are a collector of such things. What would you
say if I were to prophesy that you are going to add largely
to your treasures in the course of the next few days?
To be precise, one of your hobbies is old silver. Like
most collectors, you will do pretty well everything to gain
your end."
“I am afraid that is about true," Anstruther admitted.
“Spoken like a man of the world," Seymour went on.
“ For a long time you have coveted a fine specimen of
Cellini silver work. A whole set of it will pass into your
possession, if it has not already done so, and the unique
service will not cost you a farthing."
Seymour delivered this shot calmly enough, pretending
to be gazing at the crystal all the time. But the way in
which Anstruther writhed about in his chair was not lost
upon Jack and Rigby, who were watching the drama with
breathless interest. Anstruther had half risen from his
seat again, and then had forced himself down once more,
as if struggling with his hidden emotions.
“I should like to see that precious crystal of yours,"
he sneered. “It seems nothing but a piece of glass to
me."
By way of reply, Seymour gravely polished the crystal
on his serviette, and passed it across to Anstruther with


The Magician Speaks
287
instructions to hold it firmly in his palms long enough for
the imprint of his fingers to fix themselves. Anstruther
laughed as he complied with these instructions. Then the
crystal was laid upon the table very carefully, and was
rolled into a small cardboard box, and there swathed in
cotton wool. With the same grave demeanor, Seymour
called for wax and something unique in the way of a seal.
A servant came presently with a piece of violet sealing
wax, and one of the guests proffered his intaglio ring as a
seal.
“I am going to ask a favor," Seymour said. “I
should like the gentleman to seal the box, and hand it
over to another guest, who will take care of the whole
thing for the next three days. You will all see what I
mean—I want to prevent the possibility of the box being
tampered with. Will the gentleman kindly seal the
packet, and will another gentleman kindly offer to take
care of it?"
The box was sealed at length with the intaglio ring,
then another guest came forward and volunteered to keep
it in his charge.
“That is exceedingly good of you," Seymour went on;
“only you will quite see that we cannot carry this through
properly unless the gentleman who has taken charge of the
box volunteers his name."
“No trouble about that,” the second guest cried. “I
am Sir Frederick Ormond, Under-Secretary of Foreign
Affairs. I hope that my name will be sufficient guar-
antee."
Seymour nodded, and the statesman dropped the packet
into the pocket of his cloak. Anstruther laughed un-
pleasantly.
“ And what is the upshot of all this to be ?” he asked.
“ It is on the knees of the gods,” Seymour said
gravely. “Your individuality will become impressed
upon the crystal through the grips of your hands, and at
the end of the period suggested you will be able to see
your whole future there. I dare say Sir Frederick will
produce the crystal when the proper time comes."


The Magician Speaks
289
locked. Then make your way straight up the garden,
and into the summer-house which is at the top of the
marble steps by the fountain. You are not to be more
than half-an-hour."
Anstruther rang off, and replaced the receiver on the
hooks. He strolled away without the slightest idea that
every word he said was audible to the pair of lovers in the
alcove. Jack turned to Claire with eager eyes.
" This must be seen to immediately," he said. "Go
back to the ballrooin as if nothing had happened and wait
for me there. As for myself, I am going to smoke a cigar
in the garden, and wait to see who the mysterious indi-
vidual is who has been so peremptorily summoned here.
You see how important it is.”
Claire saw that there was much in what Jack said.
Obediently enough she went off to the ballroom, and
waited eagerly for the return of her lover. He seemed a
long time coming, and nearly an hour had passed before
he came back and strolled up to Claire in as casual a way
as possible. But she could see that his eyes were gleam-
ing behind his mask. He was breathing fast, too.
“ Have you discovered who it was ?" Claire asked
eagerly.
"Yes," Jack replied. “They are both together. As
I more than half expected, the fresh arrival is Serena."


CHAPTER XLI
THE WORM TURNS
MEANWHILE, it is necessary to go back for a few
moments to the garden and summer-house where Jack had
been waiting, to see who was going to keep the assignation
with Anstruther. On the whole, it was not unpleasant
work, seeing that the night was very fine and warm, and
at the same time dark and velvety. There were not many
gardens in London as finely proportioned as those behind
Barmouth's residence. It was wonderful, in the midst of
that atmosphere, that flowers and shrubs could flourish so
kindly. There were not many paths, most of the ground
being given over to turf, so that Jack's feet made no
noise as he walked along in the direction of the green gate
which gave upon the lane beyond.
The gate turned out to be a door in the wall hidden
from view inside by a deep belt of shrubs. It was here
that Jack hid himself, and stood smoking his cigar with a
determination to stay there all night if necessary. The
best part of an hour had elapsed before there was a noise
outside, and a hand turned the latch. Jack dropped his
cigar, and ground it into the soft earth with the heel of
his slipper. By this time his eyes had got accustomed to
the darkness, so that it was not a difficult matter to make
out the outlines of the approaching figure. The figure
was that of a woman, evidently dressed for the evening,
and wearing a mask.
Jack was not to be deceived; he knew that form
perfectly well, even if he had not recognized the dress,
which the wearer had used the night of his visit to Car-
rington's.
“Serena," he whispered to himself. “Well, I might
have expected that. Now to see what will happen next."
290


·
291
The Worm Turns
Jack made his way hurriedly across the lawn, and took
up a position behind a belt of pampas grass, where he could
not only see into the summer-house, but also hear what
was going on there. He was only just in time, for almost
immediately the towering headdress of Anstruther ap-
peared, and its owner made his way directly to the summer-
house. Jack could see Serena as she hurried along. On
the still night air every word could be distinctly heard.
There came to Jack's ears a whispered apology from Serena
that she was sorry for the delay.
“You might have ruined everything," Anstruther said
savagely. “I told you to be here within half-an-hour at
the latest."
Serena replied humbly that she could not get there be-
fore. She had to dress, and she had had to get the other
servant out of the way. Anstruther muttered impatiently.
“I suppose it is impossible for a woman to keep to
time," he said. “And now listen to me. There is some
thing going on here which even I cannot fathom. I feel
as if I were being laughed at; as if an unseen net was
about my shoulders, and that a hidden hand was ready to
close it at any time.”
Jack listened eagerly to what followed. It was quite
evident from what Anstruther said that Seymour's per-
formance had made a deep impression upon him. For
once in a way Anstruther was puzzled and frightened.
He told Serena at considerable length all that had taken
place during supper.
“There is more than meets the eye here," he said,
"and that fellow said either too little or too much. One
thing is quite certain he is pretty intimately acquainted
with my inner life in Mexico. Now who is he, and how
does he know all this?".
“ If you don't know, I can't tell you,” Serena replied.
“No; but you are going to find out," Anstruther re-
sponded. " You are going to mingle with the other
guests as if you were a friend of Lady Barmouth's, and I
will sign to you presently what I want you to do. You
have plenty of nerve and resource, and you must find some


292
The Yellow Face
way of removing the mask from the face of my friend the
magician. But that is not all. I have a very shrewd sus-
picion that this mysterious Lord Barmouth is no other than
the man James Smith, who has been so useful to me from
a pecuniary point of view."
ir You think Lord Barmouth and James Smith are the
same person?” Serena cried. “Oh, that is quite im-
possible.”
" That remains to be seen," said Anstruther. “You
know all about Lord Barmouth's reputation as a recluse
as well as I do. Therefore, it will be part of your duty
to get a sight of Lord Barmouth also. Mind you, I may
be mistaken, but I have a strong impression that when
you come to look at Barmouth you will see the features
of James Smith. What the certainty of this means to
me you can pretty well guess. Hitherto I have treated
Smith as a comparatively poor man, never guessing for a
moment that he was the enormously wealthy Barmouth,
but in future "
Anstruther paused significantly. The listener thrilled
as he realized the danger in which Barmouth stood. But
his whole attention now was concentrated upon Serena.
He could see that she had drawn herself up to her full
height; from the motion of her hands, she was evidently
moved by some strong feeling. It flashed upon Jack all at
once that Anstruther was asking Serena to plot against the
happiness of her own sister-Lady Barmouth. That that
was the chord that Anstruther had touched, Serena's first
words proved.
“You are asking too much," she said. “I will not do
it. There are times when I feel that this life of mine can
endure no longer. I have worked hard for you ; I have
been the slave of all your schemes; I have forgotten that
I possess a conscience."
“Yes; and you forget what you owe to me,” An-
struther responded. “But for me you would long since
have stood in a felon's dock. If you will think of the time
when you and your boy -
“No, no !" Serena cried. "I will not have it. What


The Worm Turns
293
do I care if I alarm the people inside. For the sake of
that black past I have consented to be your tool and slave.
And yet I feel sometimes that you are playing with me;
that the whole thing is nothing more or less than a cruel
and deliberate lie on your part, and that my boy still lives.
If I thought so; if I only thought so —
Serena plunged forward, and Jack could see that some-
thing glittered in her hand. There was the confused
suggestion of a struggle, the sound of an oath from An-
struther's lips, and the tinkle of metal upon the floor of
the summer-house.
“So you have got one of your mad moods on to-night,"
Anstruther panted. “Do not push me to extremes, be-
cause you know what that means. Will you obey me or
not?"
Jack could see Serena pass her hands across her eyes;
he could hear the quick sobbing of her breath.
“I was wrong," she said presently. It was marvelous
how quickly she had recovered herself. “I will do your
bidding. Let us go inside, and you can show me the man
whose face you desire to see."
The two moved off together, and entered the house,
where they were quickly lost in the throng of guests. It
was at this point that Jack joined Claire again, and told
her rapidly what had happened.
"I will go to her at once," Claire said. " It is quite
evident, from what you say, that this poor woman acts
entirely under the sinister influence of Anstruther. It
would be a good thing, I fancy, to appeal to her better
nature." Possibly it had been better for him to go off
and warn Seymour, but the strong curiosity of the moment
prevailed. He was just a little anxious about Claire, too.
And Seymour was so full of cleverness and resource if
anything untoward happened.
The scheme commended itself to Jack. He would leave
everything to Claire for the present. Then, when she was
ready, she could come to him again. Apparently An-
struther had given Serena all her instructions, for Claire
found her seated by herself in a corner of the ballroom
woned


294
The Yellow Face
watching the dazzling scene. Claire crept quietly to her
side, and touched her on the shoulder.
“Serena," she said gently. “Serena, I want you."
There was a violent agitation, that shook the listener's
frame; but she rose very gently, and passed along the
corridor by Claire's side without the slightest protest.
They came to a little alcove at length, and Claire bade her
companion sit down.
"I know why you are here to-night,” she explained.
“I even know what your appointed task is. But, what is
still more important, I am acquainted with the hold that
Anstruther has upon you. Believe me, you have no firmer
friend in the world than myself. Tell me your sad story,
and let me see if I can help you."
The gently spoken words were not without their effect.
Heedless of consequences, Serena removed her mask,
and proceeded to wipe the streaming tears from her
eyes.
“I will tell you everything," she murmured. “You
know already that Lady Barmouth is my sister, and you
are acquainted with the fact that Padini is my husband;
but nobody knows besides Anstruther that I was once the
mother of a little boy. I was always wilful and headstrong.
I was always ready to throw away my happiness for the
whim of the moment. That is why I married Padini, who
basely deserted me when he found that I had no money.
A month after our marriage I was alone in the world, al-
most starving. I was too proud to send to my friends; I
had meant to wait till my money was exhausted, and then
throw myself into the river. But I dared not do that, be-
cause of the fresh young life which I knew was coming to
me. I managed to make a little money, and when my
child was born I was comparatively happy. When the
boy was about eighteen months old, Anstruther found me
out, and professed a desire to become my friend. It was
about that time that Padini turned up again, and began to
blackmail me. I cannot tell you exactly what happened ;
they say I tried to kill him because he would have taken
my child from me. At any rate, I have always been in-


296
The Yellow Face
“Will you be good enough to step this way for a
moment?"
Anstruther followed, until Barmouth reached his own
private room. Then he locked the door, and put up the
light.
Now that we are face to face and free from interrup-
tion," he said, “I am going to speak still more candidly
to you. But first let me ask you a question. Why did
you decline the invitation of Lady Barmouth on the plea
of a severe chill, and then come here afterwards, as if you
wanted your presence in the house kept a secret?"
“Really," Anstruther stammered—"really, I cannot
recognize your right to cross-examine me like this. In
the very unlikely event of your being my host '
“We will discuss that presently," Barmouth replied.
“ Permit me to remind you that you have not yet an-
swered my question, Mr. Anstruther. You will not deny
your identity?"
Anstruther laughed awkwardly, and, seeing that the
game was up, removed his mask and pitched it on the
table.
“What I have done is not exactly a crime," he said.
“I changed my mind, and came at the last moment."
“At the last moment,” Barmouth echoed significantly.
" You have been here for the past two hours."
Anstruther moved towards the door. He declared,
with some heat, that he would have no more of this, un-
less the other could prove his right to ask these questions.
Barmouth turned away for a moment, and when he faced
round again his face was bare of the mask.
“ Now you recognize my right," he said. “You black-
hearted scoundrel, I am Lord Barmouth."


CHAPTER XLII
A PIECE OF MUSIC
In other circumstances, Anstruther would have been
pleased with the turn of events. He knew now that
Smith, whom for so long he had been persecuting, was the
rich Lord Barmouth. This, too, saved a deal of trouble;
for instance, Serena need not have been brought here at
all. Now Anstruther would be able to blackmail Bar-
mouth for thousands, whereas he had been content with
hundreds from the more humble Smith. Barmouth smiled,
as he followed Anstruther's train of thought. He was
reading the other's mind like an open book.
"I know exactly what you are thinking about," he
said. “You are not sighing for lost opportunities; you
are going to make it all up in the future. Still, I have
puzzled you and, perhaps, frightened you a little. You
are perfectly well aware why I have concealed my identity
for so long. And you would give a great deal to know
why I have so suddenly come out and met you in the
open. On that point I have no intention of gratifying
your curiosity. You may put your mask on again, and I
will resume mine ; but of one thing you may be certain.
Either as Lord Barmouth or as James Smith, not one
farthing more will you ever receive from me.”.
Barmouth turned contemptuously away, and unlocked
the door.
“Now you can go your way, and I will go mine,” he
said. “I shall say nothing of this to Lady Barmouth; at
least, not for the present. Make the best of your evening's
pleasure. It will be the last time you will ever be under
my roof."
With an irritated feeling of defeat Anstruther stalked
from the room, followed by Lord Barmouth, who lost no
297


298
The Yellow Face
chance of hunting up Jack and Rigby. He told his inter-
ested listeners what had happened.
“I think you have acted wisely, Lord Barmouth,"
Rigby said. “We are so hot upon the track of Anstruther
now that a day or two makes little difference. At the
same time, I cannot quite see why Anstruther should have
come here in this mysterious way, when he might have
accompanied Claire quite openly."
Jack was inspired with a sudden idea.
* It's all a question of alibi,” he said. “We know per-
fectly well what an ingenious scheme Anstruther has put
up so that he may be what an Irishman would call in two
places at the same time. Here is a magnificent oppor-
tunity of getting to the bottom of that mysterious music
business."
“Right you are," Rigby cried. “ It would be like
flying in the face of Providence to throw away such a
chance. Anstruther is here, and likely to remain, and so
is Serena. You may depend upon it that the other maid
has gone to bed, so that we should have the house in Pan-
ton Square all to ourselves. You know the ropes better
than I do, Jack. Can you tell us a good way of getting
into the house without playing the burglar?”
Jack thought a moment, then an inspiration came to
him again ; the thing was quite simple.
“We can walk into the place as if it belonged to us,"
he said. “When Claire came away, Anstruther told her
that he should retire early. Claire did not wish to keep
the servants up unduly, so she took a latch-key with her.”
“ Absolutely made for us,” Rigby exclaimed. “You
go off to Miss Helmsley and borrow her latch-key, and we
will get to the bottom of the whole mystery whilst An-
struther is enjoying himself here."
Jack came back presently with the latch-key in his pos-
session. It was an easy matter to get out of the house
without being observed ; then a cab was called, and the
two proceeded to Jack's chambers, where they stripped
off their fancy dresses hastily and assumed more civilized
attire.


A Piece of Music
299
“ I vote we take Bates into this business," Rigby sug-
gested. “I've got a little idea of my own, which I will
tell you about after we have been to Panton Square."
Unfortunately the services of Inspector Bates were not
available, for he had been called out on some business of
importance, and was not expected back till the following
morning.
"We shall have to go through it ourselves," Jack said.
“ You will have a fine lot of copy for the Planet a bit later
on. I declare I am getting quite fascinated by my present
occupation. Shall we take a cab, or would it not be more
safe for us to walk ?”
Panton Square was reached at length, and No. 5 ap-
peared to be in total darkness. As the friends had an-
ticipated, Serena's fellow servant had gone to bed, for
neither at the front or back of the house was there so much
as a glimmer of light to be seen. An application of the
latch-key to the door proved quite successful, and a minute
later the two friends were inside. They had not the
slightest hesitation in putting up the lights, so that the
passing police might infer that the occupants of the place
had returned. Not that he wanted to trouble much about
anything but the study, seeing that it was there that the
mysterious music always emanated.
It was an ordinary-looking room enough, the walls be-
ing entirely lined with books. There were books every-
where, not an inch of space being available for more.
The ceiling was quite plain, and the closest search failed
to disclose anything in the way of an apparatus by which
the sounds of music could be conveyed from a distance
into the study. Jack looked round with a puzzled
frown.
" All the same, it must come that way," he said. “I
know perfectly well that one of Padini's recitals came into
this room as if it had been carried by some electrical
means."
“A sort of telephone, I suppose," Rigby said. “Of
course, we have all heard of the theatrephone, but that
theory would not work out in this case. With the dodge


300
The Yellow Face
in question you have to plug both ears with a kind of re-
ceiver, and even then the inusic is only audible to those
using the little receivers. In the present instance I under-
stand that the whole room is flooded with melody, just as
if the player were actually here."
"You've got it exactly," Jack explained. “I have
heard it myself, and so has Claire ; and both of us spotted
the music as being in precisely the style of Padini. Hang
me if I can see the slightest sign of how the thing is
worked."
Rigby said nothing ; indeed, he was hardly listening.
He was pacing round the room pulling armfuls of books
out here and there, as if expecting to find some cunning
device hidden behind the volumes. He stooped to pick
up Anstruther's violin case, which lay upon the floor.
The case had been recently dropped, or some weight had
fallen upon it, for the lid was cracked all across, and the
hinges were broken. Rigby gave a little cry as he threw
back the lid.
“Here's a discovery for you," he exclaimed. "An-
struther's violin with the neck broken off. If you will
look at it closely, you will see that it is covered with dust,
and evidently has not been used for days. Of course, it
is just possible that Anstruther possesses two violins -
"I know as a matter of fact that he doesn't," Jack
said. “This is his Cremona right enough. I have had
it in my hands a hundred times."
“We are getting on," Rigby laughed. “This room
has been flooded with melody night after night, and yet
we know for a fact that Anstruther's violin has been ab-
solutely useless."
“That does not help us to a solution of the problem,"
Jack said. “But I have an idea. We shall never get to
the truth through Anstruther, but Padini may help us.
Now it is very improbable that Anstruther will be back
under an hour. I'll stay here whilst you go off to the
Great Metropolitan Hotel and see Padini. If you flatter
him a bit, he will probably play to you. He will certainly
do this in his own room, because professionals of mark


302
The Yellow Face
when to stop, for he played one piece after another, en-
tirely forgetting that he had an audience. Across Rigby's
brain there came floating the germ of a great idea. Padini
finished a brilliant passage, and the bow fell from his
hands.
“ There, my friend," he said breathlessly. “Never
have I played better than I have done to-night."
“ You are indeed a master," Rigby said, and he meant
every word that he uttered. “An artist so great as your.
self should be a composer also. Have you published any-
thing at all?"
The flattered artist replied that he had not published
anything so far, but there were one or two little things
which he had written in his spare time, and these he in-
tended offering to some publisher who was prepared to pay
a price for them.
• Would you mind playing me one?" Rigby asked. “I
should prefer a piece that nobody has ever heard."
Padini swept his bow across the strings, and proceeded
to play a perfect little gem in a minor key. To a certain
extent it reminded Rigby of Gounod's “ Ave Maria,"
though its originality and breadth deprived it of any sug-
gestion of plagiarism.
“Perfect in its way," Rigby said. “Would you mind
giving me the score ? If you will, I can get a good price
for it from the Planet people. We are going to publish
music at reasonable rates, and there is no reason why you
should not have fifty guineas for yours.”
Padini declared that he quite shared Rigby's opinion.
He took a sheet of manuscript music from a drawer, and
threw it carelessly across to his companion.
"There you are,” he said. “Make the best bargain
you can for me. What? You are not going already?".
Rigby muttered something to the effect that he had not
yet finished his work at the office, and that he must tear
himself away, much as he would like to have stayed to
hear more of that beautiful music. A few minutes later
Rigby left the room. As he glanced back he saw that
Padini had fallen into his armchair again, and was already


A Piece of Music
· 303
half asleep. Rigby smiled to himself, wondering what
Padini would say if he knew the purpose to which the
sheet of manuscript music would be devoted. He called
a cab and hastened away in the direction of Panton Square,
where he expected that Jack would be still awaiting him.
The lights were up at No. 5 just as they were when Rigby
had started for the Great Metropolitan Hotel ; but, all the
same, he took the precaution of whistling softly, in case
anything had gone wrong. The front door opened cau-
tiously, and Jack's head peeped out. A moment later,
and Rigby was inside.
“Well ” he demanded impatiently. “Anything hap-
pened ?"
“A great deal," Jack replied. “For half-an-hour
everything was quiet, then that wonderful music started
again. Mind you, I haven't the remotest idea where it
came from; I am just as much in the fog as ever. But it
filled the room as if some great artist was invisible to me.
I could recognize Padini's touch. Of course, I am assum-
ing that you found him at home, and persuaded him to
play to you. Can I take that for granted ?"
“It is exactly as you say,” Rigby explained. “ Please
go on."
“Then I will tell you what Padini played. He started
with the first part of · The Moonlight Sonata.'"
Rigby nodded and smiled. His smile broadened as
Jack proceeded to tick off the pieces of music just as they
were played.
“There was one, however, that I could not follow,"
he said. “It was that lovely little thing at the end.
I am absolutely certain that it was an original piece of
music."
Rigby laughed as he produced the scrap of manuscript
from his pocket. There was an expression of triumph on
his face.
" Original, and in my possession,” he cried. “This
scrap of paper contains the key of the whole situation.".


The Trap is Baited
305
which we are now talking about, and you will hear it.
Now, I know Miss Helmsley is a very capable pianist, and
I want her to follow the air carefully, so that she will be
able to play it by ear. Then we shall be in a position to ask
Anstruther the name of the piece that attracted her so much.
Miss Helmsley can pick it out on the piano for him, and
ask him to play it again. You can imagine his difficulty,
but you can hardly imagine a way out of it. This is only
a side issue, I know; but it will all tell when we bring
Anstruther to book and expose the whole conspiracy."
Jack appreciated the point, and promised to do his best
to bring the comedy to a successful issue. There was
nothing for it now but to reassume their fancy dresses and
return to Belgrave Square.
By this time a considerable number of the guests were
moving on elsewhere, though the majority of those present
meant to see the thing through. As the cab bearing Jack
and Rigby drove up they saw the tall figure of Anstruther
coming down the steps. He stood there as if hesitating
for a moment, then called a passing cab and gave some
directions to Piccadily.
“ Any money I know where he is going to," Rigby
said. “My dear fellow, you go inside and see Miss
Helmsley, whilst I take this cab back to our rooms and
change again into civilized attire.”
“What are you going to do now?" Jack asked.
“I am going to follow Anstruther," Rigby explained.
“I feel so restless to-night that I can't settle down to any-
thing. So I am just going to follow that fellow, who is
most assuredly going to see Carrington.".
It was half-an-hour later before Rigby found himself,
minus his fancy dress, in Piccadilly opposite the rooms
occupied by Carrington. It was very late now, and Picca.
dilly was absolutely deserted, save for a passing policeman
and a stray night cab whose driver appeared to be asleep
upon the box. Rigby hesitated for a moment, a little un-
certain as to what to do.
There was no difficulty in ascertaining as to whether
Carrington had or had not gone to bed, for the lights


206
The Yellow Face
were up in his sitting-room, and presently a shadow ap-
peared upon the blind. Doubtless this was Carrington,
and all speculation was set at rest an instant later by a
second shadow on one of the blinds. The gigantic head-
dress of Anstruther loomed large against the light. There
was nothing for it now but to wait patiently upon the
course of events. Rigby pulled at the leg of the slumber-
ing cabman, and brought him to a sense of his responsi-
bilities.
"I don't want to take your cab anywhere," he ex-
plained. “All I want is to hire it for an hour or so and
sit inside. You can go to sleep again if you like, and I'll
wake you when I am ready to go. It will be an easy way
of earning half-a-sovereign.”
The cabman grinned and nodded as Rigby disappeared
into the recesses of the cab. It was, perhaps, an hour
later before the door leading to Carrington's flat opened
and Anstruther came out. Evidently he had left his fancy
dress behind him, for he was attired in a rough coat and
deerstalker hat. Carrington appeared to be dissuading
his friend from something, and Rigby could hear the latter
laugh in reply.
“I tell you it must be done,” Anstruther said, " and
it will have to be done to-morrow night. I shall see friend
Charlie without delay. If he is not in, I shall leave a
settled note for him."
Anstruther strode off down the street, and presently
hailed another night cab which was crawling down the
road. Rigby sat up and aroused his own driver.
“Here's another five shillings for you," he said.
“Keep that cab in front of you in sight, and follow it till
it stops. Then you shall have fifteen shillings. Unless I
am greatly mistaken, you will not have very far to go."
As a matter of fact, Rigby had summed up the situation
quite correctly. The mention of the name of Charlie had
given him the clue he required, this same Charlie being
none other than the professional cracksman who had been
engaged by Anstruther to deliver the letter at the Great
Metropolitan Hotel to Ferris. This deduction proved to


308
The Yellow Face
Anstruther means to leave a note for his pal if the latter is
away. In the event of Simple Charlie' being profes-
sionally engaged elsewhere to-morrow night, he will be
asked to find a substitute. As we are perfectly well aware
of the fact that there is no chance of Anstruther finding
his friend at home, it is only logical to assume that he
will leave the note behind. In a few moments that note
will be in our possession, and we shall be in a position to
read it at leisure. Then I will take it the first thing in the
morning round to the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and
force • Simple Charlie' to write a suitable reply. Do you
follow me ?"
“Oh, quite," Rigby said. “You are going to choose
your own substitute. Have you fixed upon him yet?"
Seymour chuckled in reply, but declined to afford any
information for the present. He suggested that Rigby
should go outside and see if Anstruther had gone yet.
Rigby came back presently with information to the effect
that the burglar's outer door was locked, thus fairly as-
suming that Anstruther had executed his task and had
gone. Seymour produced the simple apparatus by means
of which he had entered the burglar's rooms on the last
occasion.
“I am going to get that letter," he explained simply.
“ You need not have any fear about me. Open the win-
dow, please."
In less than five minutes Seymour was back again with
the letter in his hand. He laid it on the table, and then
proceeded to steam the envelope open with the aid of a
kettle of hot water which he procured from the kitchen.
There was very little in the letter, but that little was to
the point. The writer curtly commanded the recipient
to meet him to-morrow night at a quarter to twelve out-
side the Mansion House Station of the Underground
Railway. The recipient was enjoined to come prepared
for business, and the last three words had been under-
lined. In the event of this being impossible, “Simple
Charlie" was asked to procure a substitute, and let the
writer of the letter know this not later than ten o'clock


The Trap is Baited
309
the next morning at the old address and in the old way.
It was perfectly plain.
" You see exactly what this means," Seymour said.
“I take it that the old address means Panton Square.
But • Simple Charlie' will have to tell me all about that in
the morning. He shall write to Anstruther and put every-
thing in order first. I have prepared a very pretty little
surprise for Anstruther.”
Seymour chuckled again, but refused to gratify Rigby's
curiosity. He was taking no risks, he said ; he even went
so far as to seal down the letter again and return it to the
burglar's rooms.
"We cannot afford to make a single mistake," he said.
“ Any little slip might ruin the whole delicate business.”
There was nothing further to do, at least, so far as the
night was concerned. It was getting very late now, and
Rigby declined Seymour's offer of a whiskey and soda and
cigar. He turned as though to go, and held out his hand
to Seymour. Then he paused, as a sudden thought struck
him.
" There is one thing we have forgotten," he said.
“ Don't you think it would be as well to take Bates into
our confidence. We had arranged to do so really, but
when we called an hour or two ago at Shannon Street
police station he was not in. I don't know whether you
agree with me or not, but I think he would be extremely
useful to us just now.”
Seymour nodded and chuckled. He seemed to be in
the enjoyment of some good joke which he desired to keep
to himself.
“Oh, we must have Bates in this, by all means. Per-
haps you would not mind leaving a message as you go
along, and ask him to be good enough to call here not
later than nine to-morrow morning. I think I can promise
Inspector Bates that his time with me will not be wasted.
And now, if you must go — "
Rigby took the hint and departed. He left the message
for Bates, who, he was informed, might not be at the
office the whole of the next day. This being so, Rigby


CHAPTER XLIV
THE SUBSTITUTE
It was nearly eleven o'clock before Bates reached Sey-
mour's rooms. He listened patiently to all that the latter
had to say, and he chuckled grimly when Seymour's plot
was laid before him.
"Upon my word, sir, you ought to have been in the
force yourself," he exclaimed. “I never heard a neater
scheme. I have been puzzling my brains the last day
or two for some way of getting hold of Anstruther. I
can nobble Carrington at any moment; in fact, I have
a warrant for his arrest in my pocket now. You see,
I can easily prove that he has been disposing of his
clients' securities, but that hardly affects Anstruther. I
suppose you want me to go round to the Great Metro-
politan Hotel, and compel · Simple Charlie' to act as
bonnet for us. I have not the slightest doubt that he will
be able to find a good substitute if he likes. But there
is one little difficulty in the way which you have not
thought of."
"Oh, yes, I have," Seymour replied. “I know per-
fectly well what you mean. You mean that even a
burglar has some code of honor, and that he would
hesitate to betray a pal into such a trap as this. But if the
substitute that I have in my mind is acceptable to you,
there is no reason for further anxiety."
Seymour scribbled a name on a sheet of paper, and
handed it across to Bates. The latter laughed as he
'read it.
“Oh, most assuredly you ought to have been in the
force," he said. “The thing is so clever, and yet so de-
lightfully simple.”
Meanwhile, Masefield was carrying out his side of the
programme.
311


The Substitute
313
drawing-room of Panton Square, and found Claire alone
there. He deemed it prudent not to tell her too inuch of
what had taken place the last few hours ; indeed, he was
more concerned to hear the latest information about
Serena.
"I have not seen much of her to-day," Claire said.
“I do not know what to make of her at all. Last night
late she came into my bedroom, and we had a long talk
about her boy. It is a very strange thing, Jack, that only
this morning a man arrived to see my guardian-a man
who seemed to be annoyed at Mr. Anstruther's refusal
to pay him a sum of money. I happened to overhear a
few words as they parted. The stranger declared that if
he did not have something definite by Saturday, he would
send the kid back.' I should have thought nothing of
this unless I had heard Serena's story last night, but,
taken in conjunction with what she said, I shouldn't
wonder if the man in question had not the custody of the
poor woman's child."
“ This is interesting," Jack said. “Did you take any
particular note of the man's appearance?".
Claire replied that she had not failed to do so. But
she had not followed him, though her suspicions were
aroused. Jack debated the thing in his mind for a
moment before he spoke again.
“We know perfectly well," he said, “that Anstruther
is terribly pressed for ready money. He is certain not to
send that check, and it is equally certain that the man
will call again for the cash on Saturday morning. It will
be an easy matter to get Bates to lend me a plain clothes
man and follow the fellow wherever he goes. But you
must understand -
What more Jack would have said was prevented by the
entrance of Anstruther, closely followed by the announce-
ment of dinner. It was not a gay meal, for the host was
moody and depressed. He talked brilliantly at times, then
lapsed into a reverie, and appeared not to hear when
spoken to. Claire rose presently with a sigh of relief, glad
to get away from the gloom of the dining-room and its


316
The Yellow Face
seen the transmogrified Bates who had been speaking to
him over the line. The inspector crossed the road and
disappeared into the shadow. Anstruther stood there,
glancing impatiently up and down the road as if waiting
for somebody that was late. A figure slouched up to him,
and a boarse voice whispered in his ear:
" Party of the name of Maggs," he said in his gin and
fog voice. “Pal of 'Simple Charlie.' Old Charlie
couldn't get away to-night, so he sent me instead. Don't
you be disappointed, guv'nor ; you will find me just as
clever with them bits of steel as Charles himself. Bit of
burglary, ain't it?"
Anstruther nodded curtly.
“ We had better walk along," he said. “I suppose
your friend explained to you that this little job will put
twenty pounds in your pocket? It is a mere matter of
opening a safe. The getting into the premises is per-
fectly simple, because I have come provided with the keys.
You know the City and Provincial Bank ?"
The other man grinned, and remarked that banks
generally were a bit above his form. Anstruther smiled
as he reflected that he had the keys of the bank premises
proper in his pocket, so that there would be no great
difficulty in getting into the counting house, and from
there to Carrington's private office. As to the night
watchmen that was another matter altogether. In the
face of recent happenings, they would be more alert than
they had been in the past; but, at the same time, their
attention would be bestowed more upon the cellars than
the office.
The road was entirely deserted now, as Anstruther
crossed the street and gently turned the key in the outer
door. A moment later, and the pair were in Carrington's
private office. They could afford to turn the lights up, for
the iron shutters outside made a perfect screen. In one
corner of the room stood the safe upon which the man
who called himself Maggs was intended to operate. An-
struther pointed at it impatiently.


The Substitute
317
“Get to work at once," he said. “There is something
inside that I must take away to-night."
"A fine set of Cellini plate, I presume?" Maggs said,
in an entirely different voice. “ No, you don't, Mr. An-
.struther. If you put your hand in your hip pocket, I'll
blow your brains out. I have the advantage of you here,
and I am going to keep it.”
“Who the deuce are you ?" Anstruther stammered.
His hands had fallen to his side, and his face was pale
and ghastly. “Who are you?"
The so-called burglar snatched away his wig and ragged
beard, and with a handkerchief changed the aspect of his
face.
"I am Inspector Bates," he said. “Very much at
your service."


CHAPTER XLV
CAUGHT!
Bates had laid his plans very carefully and very well
indeed. In many respects Rigby had got the best of the
detective, but this was as much due to circumstances as
anything else. Still, when it came to the technical side
of the case, Rigby was no match for the inspector. It
was nearly nine o'clock before Bates called at Carrington's
rooms and asked to see the latter. There was no occasion
yet for Bates to assume the very effective disguise with
which he was to trick Anstruther. There would be plenty
of time for that. Carrington was just finishing his dinner
-So his man said. He was not very well, and did not
care to see anybody. But Bates put the man aside in his
own easy way, and walked into the dining-room without
the trouble of announcing himself.
That Carrington was suffering from some mental and
physical excitement was perfectly plain. His face was
ghastly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a
twitching of his lips which told a plain tale to an experi-
enced officer like Bates. Carrington scowled, and de-
manded the meaning of this unwarrantable intrusion.
“I don't think you will find it unwarrantable when
you have heard me to the finish,” Bates said. "Nor will
it pay you to take this tone with me. I am an inspector
from Scotland Yard, and unless you answer my questions
freely, I shall have to put them in a more disagreeable
form."
Carrington changed his note altogether. His face be-
came still more pallid. He motioned Bates to a chair.
He would have found it hard to have spoken just then.
Bates waited a moment to give the other time to recover.
Carrington at length found words to ask Bates what his
business was with him.
318


Caught!
319
“ It is with regard to your affair at the bank,” the
inspector explained. “You may not be aware of the
fact, but the case has been placed in my hands by my
superiors.”
" Oh, you are alluding to the burglary," Carrington
said.
“We will call it a burglary for the present," Bates re-
plied, with a significance that there was no mistaking.
"I have gone into the matter carefully, and I have come
to the conclusion that there was no burglary at all."
Carrington jumped to his feet with a well-simulated
air of indignation. He advanced towards Bates threat-
eningly.
"You insolent scoundrel ! " he cried. “What do you
mean? Do you know you are dealing with a gentleman
and man of honor ?”
“Softly, softly," Bates replied. “I think we had better
understand one another. I have in my possession at the
present moment a warrant for your arrest for fraud and
embezzlement, relating to certain jewels and other valu-
ables deposited in your keeping by various clients. It is
in my power to execute that warrant at once. The case
is much too serious a one for bail, and it is for you to say
whether you will remain for the present in your com-
fortable quarters, or pass, at any rate, the next two months
in jail.”
Carrington made no further show of fight. He col-
lapsed into his chair, and wiped his wet forehead dis-
tractedly.
" You don't mean that," he groaned. “There must
be some terrible mistake here. Why, all the evidences
pointed to an ingenious and daring burglary. The night
watchmen were drugged, as you know, and the thieves
employed dynamite to blow up the safes. No one regrets
the loss of all those valuables more than I do, but even
banks are not secure against the modern burglar. Those
safes were crammed full of valuables, as I could easily
prove."
“ They were," Bates corrected. “But I am in a posi-


Caught!
321
“I am coming to that presently," Bates said coolly.
“ Now you were at your wits' ends to know what to do.
You knew perfectly well that many of your clients would
require their jewels for Lady Barmouth's dance. They
were not forthcoming, for the simple reason that they had
been pledged elsewhere. You had not the necessary
cunning to devise some scheme to shift the blame from
your shoulders, so you called in your friend Anstruther.
It was he who hit upon the idea of the burglary. It was
you who placed temptation in the way of the night watch-
men through the medium of a couple of bottles of drugged
port wine. After that the rest was easy. You had only
to enter the bank with your own keys -
" Stop a moment," Carrington cried eagerly. “You
seem to forget that even I cannot enter the vaults of the
bank without duplicate keys in the possession of various
cashiers."
“Now, listen to me," Bates said impressively. “This
discussion is absolutely irregular. It is my plain duty to
arrest you at once and convey you to Bow Street. But
if you help me, I may be in the position later on to do you
a service. We know precisely how Anstruther used the
dynamite; we know precisely what happened in the
vaults, and how most of the few valuables that remained
were conveyed to your own private safe. More than that,
we are perfectly well aware what fee Anstruther demanded
for his trouble. Need I go into the matter of that service
of Cellini plate ?"
Carrington threw up his hands with a gesture of despair.
He was crushed and beaten to the ground by the tre-
mendous weight of evidence with which Bates was over-
whelming him.
“It is no use fighting any longer," he said. “I confess
to everything. I shall plead guilty, and afford you every
information in my power. Do you want me to come along
with you now?"'
On the whole, Bates rather thought not. He had
effected his purpose, and sooner or later Carrington would
have to become his prisoner. He knew that the latter


322
The Yellow Face
would speak freely enough, like the craven coward that he
was; but there was Anstruther to be thought of. Bates
rose to leave.
"You can remain where you are for the present," he
said. “But if you will take my advice, you will make no
attempt to escape-you are too carefully watched for that ;
and now, good-night."
Bates went off in the direction of the City feeling that
the last hour had not been wasted. On the strength of
recent information, he would have felt justified in arrest-
ing Anstruther also. But he had a wholesome admiration
for that individual, and the more evidence secured against
him the better. Therefore it was that Bates was about to
carry out the latter part of the programme, in which he
was to play the part of substitute for “ Simple Charlie."
The programme had been easily arranged. There had
been no difficulty in persuading the burglar to write the
desired letter to Anstruther, and Bates had made up his
mind from the first that the mythical Maggs should be
none other than himself. From first to last the thing
worked admirably. Anstruther was utterly deceived by
the detective's admirable disguise, which he had assumed
after leaving Carrington, and had fallen headlong into the
trap.
Therefore it was that the two men stood facing one
another in Carrington's office. Anstruther white and
furious, Bates coolly contemptuous, with a revolver in his
hand.
“ What have you to say for yourself?" Bates asked.
“ Have you any reason to show why I should not take
you straight to Bow Street on the charge of burglary?".
Anstruther was fighting hard to regain possession of
himself. Bates could not but admire the marvelous cour-
age of the man. Anstruther's laugh had something quite
genuine about it.
" We are making a great fuss over a little thing," he
said. “I came here because Mr. Carrington was not well
enough to accompany me. There are certain things of
mine in my friend's private safe here, and unfortunately


328
The Yellow Face
1There are other things connected with this business,"
Jack said, “ which puzzle me. For instance, there is that
affair of the mysterious Mr. Ferris, whose acquaintance I
made at the Great Metropolitan Hotel. I am quite sure,
also, that Seymour has some deep design on hand. You
may be absolutely certain that that business of the crystal
ball played off on Anstruther at Lady Barmouth's dance
the other night was not mere flummery."
Rigby was of the same opinion. He was anxious to
know if anything had been yet done in the matter of Car-
rington's private safe and the service of Cellini plate which
Anstruther had coolly appropriated for himself. But on
this point Jack had no information to offer. He did not
doubt that the whole thing would be explained in a few
hours now. He killed the day as best he could, and af-
ter dinner turned his steps in the direction of Panton
Square. Mr. Anstruther and Miss Helmsley had practic-
ally finished, Serena explained, but they had not yet left
the dining-room. Anstruther raised his brows signifi-
cantly as Jack entered the dining-room, but his manner
was polite and cordial enough as he invited the visitor to
a seat and a glass of claret. He did not look in the least
perturbed or put out; on the contrary, Jack had seldom
seen him so easy and self-possessed. His neuralgia was
quite gone. He had charmed it away as usual, he said
with the soothing aid of music.
“ How is it you never bring your violin up to the draw-
ing-room?" Claire asked. “We hardly ever have any
duets together.”
“ After next week,” Anstruther promised. “Really, I
am a great deal more busy than I appear to be, and I feel
it quite easy to play and think at the same time."
Jack glanced across the table significantly at Claire, and
she seemed to divine what he was thinking about.
“I thought I knew most of your music," she said,
“ but there was one little item last night that took my
fancy immensely. I feel quite sure that you composed it
yourself."
Anstruther disclaimed any such gift. Fond as he was


The Music Stops
329
of his violin, it had never occurred to him to try his hand
at original composition.
"All the same, I really must get it," Claire persisted.
“I am sorry that you do not recall the piece at all. If
you will come into the drawing-room with me, and can
spare me a few minutes, I will strum the piece over to
you. It so fascinated me that I committed it to memory.
Do come along for a moment."
Anstruther laughed, as Jack thought, rather uneasily.
He tried skilfully enough to divert the conversation into
another channel, but Claire's enthusiasm refused to be
baffled. Anstruther's face darkened for a moment, and
there was a look in his eyes that boded ill to somebody.
He rose and walked across towards the door, and up the
stairs in the direction of the drawing-room.
" Very well, if you must,” he said. “I can give you
ten minutes. I dare say it is some silly trifle that I have
heard somewhere without recognizing its source."
Claire seated herself at the piano, and played the little
piece off with both brilliancy and feeling. As a matter of
fact, she had been practicing it several times during the
afternoon until she had it absolutely correct. The slow.
mournful chords died away at length, and then Claire
turned to her guardian with a smile.
“. That is it,” she said. “That is the little piece that
so fascinated me last night. Surely you can tell me the
name of it and where it came from?
The question was apparently simple enough, but An-
struther appeared to be absolutely incapable of answering
it.
“Do you mean to say you could forget a thing like
that ?" Claire protested. “ It seems to me impossible."
“ Perhaps it made less impression upon me than it did
you," Anstruther muttered. “I haven't the slightest
recollection of playing it myself. In fact "
Apstruther broke off in absolute confusion. The inci-
dent, trivial as it seemed, had upset him altogether. He
was about to betray himself by saying that he had never
heard the piece before, and that it had no place amongst


330
The Yellow Face
his music; but he pulled himself up just in time. He
bitterly blamed Padini's carelessness. It was no part of
the programme for his double to give him anything but
pieces of music with which he was absolutely familiar.
What he might have said and done was frustrated by the
appearance of Serena, who announced that a gentleman
down-stairs desired to see Mr. Anstruther.
Jack felt his pulses beating a little faster, for he had
had no reason to inquire who the stranger was. Serena's
eyes were demure and downcast as usual as she replied
to Anstruther's question that the gentleman down-stairs
was none other than Inspector Bates, of Scotland Yard.
Only just for an instant did Anstruther falter and turn
pale, then he was absolutely himself again. He almost
wished now that he had not waited so long. He had his
ingenious alibi, it was true, but even that might fail.
There were so many meshes in the nets of Scotland Yard.
In a calm, even voice he ordered Serena to show the
stranger up-stairs. Bates came at length, a little pallid
and bruised, but otherwise little worse for his last night's
adventure.
“ And what might be your business with me, in-
spector ?" Anstruther asked. “It is some time since I
had the pleasure of meeting you. Will you please take a
seat?"
"I do not see the necessity," Bates responded. "As
my business is private, perhaps you will be good enough
to follow me to your study. I will speak if you like,
but "
"You may say anything you please,” Anstruther said
defiantly.
“ Then I arrest you on a warrant, charging you with
attempted burglary last night," Bates said pithily. “You
were on the premises belonging to the City and Provincial
Bank with a felonious intent of breaking into a safe be-
tween the hours of eleven and half-past twelve. Need I
say any more?"
“ Amazing," Anstruther laughed. “Fortunately I have
my witnesses at hand to prove that I was not off these


The Music Stops
331
premises during the hours you mentioned. As a matter
of fact, I was in my study playing my violin all the time.”
"Sounds ingenious," Bates muttered, " but in these
days of clever mechanical contrivances—by the way, is
not some one playing the violin down-stairs now?"
Despite his command of himself, a furious curse broke
from Anstruther's lips. For even as Bates spoke, there
came sounds of liquid melody from the study. Not only
was this so, but, furthermore, the piece in question was
precisely the same as the one that Claire had just been
playing over to her guardian. The girl rose to her feet,
and looked across at Jack significantly. Bates smiled in
the manner of one who has solved a great problem.
“Really, a most remarkable coincidence,” he said.
“I am afraid this rather spoils the simple beauty of your
alibi, Mr. Anstruther; unless, perhaps, you have some
friend who entertains your household at such times as
business calls you elsewhere. But let us go down-stairs
and see for ourselves."
"No, no,” Anstruther cried furiously. “You shall not
do it. You shall not interfere. I'll kill you first."
“Come along," Bates responded. « Come with me
and witness the solving of the mysterious problem."


CHAPTER XLVII
“A WOMAN SCORNED"
It was plainly evident that Bates believed in his ability
to solve the problem. Anstruther had quite thrown the
mask off by this time, and stood glaring vindictively at the
inspector. It was absolutely maddening to a man of his
ability to be caught in a sorry trap like this. One of the
strongest points in Anstruther's schemes was the fact that
hitherto he had always been on the side of the police. He
had been regarded as one of them, so to speak, so that
many of his ingenious plots had been guided solely by the
action of the authorities. It had never once occurred to
him that he might have been an object of suspicion at
Scotland Yard.
“You might just as well take it quietly," Bates said.
“We know the whole thing from start to finish. It will
go a great deal easier with you if you give us all the in-
formation that lies in your power and save us trouble."
" That is the usual course, I believe," Anstruther
sneered. “But you have a different man to deal with in
me. I am quite at a loss to understand what you are do-
ing here at all."
Bates shrugged his shoulders, and walked in the direc-
tion of the door. He had no difficulty in seeing that An-
struther had made up his mind to see this thing through
to the bitter end. Therefore, it was quite useless to
try and get him to see matters in a reasonable light.
Anstruther stood there, white, silent, and furious, whilst
all the time the amazing music was going on in the study.
Mysterious as the whole thing appeared to be, there was
almost an element of farce in it. Here was the very man
who relied upon his devotion to his violin to save him in
the hour of danger, actually listening, so to speak, to his
332


334
The Yellow Face
tones of expostulation came to Jack's ears. As he crossed
the room he could see that the key was in the door. He
flung it open, and Anstruther caine staggering backward
into the room, closely followed by the detective.
“You can see that the game is up,” the latter said
coolly. "Why not make a clean breast of it? I shall
find out how this is done, if I have to pull down the house
to do it."
Anstruther smiled in a scornful kind of way, and flung
himself doggedly into a seat. He bade Bates do his worst,
and prophesied that the police would suffer for this indig-
nity. But Bates was not listening. He was pacing rapidly
round the room with his ear to the wall, as if scenting out
some clue to the mystery. A moment later, and there
came into the room the form of Serena.
One glance at her sufficed to show that she was not the
Serena whom Jack had known so long. The demure,
downcast eyes were no longer seeking the floor as of old ;
there was no shrinking and timidity on the part of the
woman now. She was changed almost beyond recogni.
tion. She walked with a firm, elastic tread, her shoulders
were thrown back, and her head uplifted fearlessly. From
under his heavy brows Anstruther glanced at her sus-
piciously.
“Go away," he commanded hoarsely. “How dare
you force yourself in here like this! Go, woman."
But the tones of command had evidently lost their
power. There was no shrinking on Serena's part. She
advanced into the middle of the room as if the place be-
longed to her.
“No, no," she cried in tones as clear and ringing as
Anstruther's own. “ Your power has gone forever. For
three long patient years I have waited for this moment.
God only knows what my life has been, and what a hell
your cruelty has created for me. But the cord is broken
now. Only to-night I have learned the truth. I have
been your good and faithful servant; I have stooped to
do your hateful work; I have been the ally of criminals-
of your creature Redgrave, amongst others; and all


“ A Woman Scorned ” 335
because I thought you held my life in the hollow of your
hand."
“ Tell them the story of your boy," Anstruther sneered.
“I will tell them the truth,” Serena cried. “You said
you could hang me if you liked. You pretended that in
my delirium I had taken the life of my darling child.
You were shielding a murderess, as I thought. But it was
a black and cruel lie. Give me back my wasted years,
you coward ; give me back my sleepless nights and dreary
days. But, thank God, that time has passed. My boy is
alive-alive! He is safe in the house at present!'
Anstruther started as if some loathsome insect had stung
him, then dropped sullenly back in his seat again. Bates
turned to Serena and called her attention to the music.
“You seem to be in a communicative mood to-night,"
he said. “You need not fear any one for the future-
Redgrave, or anybody else. I understand this last scoun-
drel is safe in the hands of the New York police, who were
wanting him badly. Perhaps you can tell us the meaning
of this extraordinary concert we are listening to. If you
will be so good -
Serena made no reply in words, but crossed to the side
of the room opposite the door, and tugged at a volume
which was the centre of a set of some classical dictionary.
The volume came away quite easily in her hand, bringing
other dummy books with it ; and then the interested spec-
tators saw that the books in question were no more than
painted gauze. In the orifice disclosed by the stripping
away of the sham, there appeared to be something that
resembled a mouth of a great silver trumpet. This was
partly plugged with a set of sensitive metal plates, which
were evidently intended to act as a diaphragm for the
record of musical expression.
“ There you have the whole thing in a nutshell," Serena
said, speaking quite naturally and quietly. “It is very
ingenious, and yet, at the same time, it is not entirely
original. It is an adaptation of the theatrephone, in con-
nection with a somewhat modified form of telephone.
The recording instrument is situated in my husband's


336
The Yellow Face
rooms in the Great Metropolitan Hotel, and he has only
to start his performance there, and the music sounds here
quite as distinctly as if he were actually playing in this
apartment. It seems exceedingly simple, now that you
know how it is done."
It did seem simple, indeed, after listening to Serena's
explanation.
Bates turned to Anstruther, and asked him if he had
anything to say ; but the latter shook his head doggedly.
He felt quite sure that the game was up, though he had no
intention whatever of giving himself away. And yet,
despite his danger, he was still the connoisseur enjoying
the beautiful music made by Padini's violin. But to
Claire, who had crept into the room unobserved, the whole
thing was horrible and unnatural. Such lovely music as
Padini was playing now was but a sorry accompaniment to
all this vulgar crime and intrigue. The girl shuddered,
and placed her hands over her ears as if to shut out the
liquid melody.
"Oh, I wish it would stop," she said. “I do wish it
would stop.”
As if in answer to this prayer, the long, wailing notes
died away, and the music fainted into nothingness. At
the same time, Bates approached the mouth of the trumpet,
and blew shrilly on his police whistle. There was a pause
just for an instant, and then, to Jack's surprise, came the
voice of Rigby clear and distinct.
“Is that you, Inspector Bates ?” he asked. “We have
just finished at this end. I am afraid there will be no
more music to-night, as two of your detectives have most
in hospitably insisted upon breaking up our concert, and
escorting Signor Padini to Shannon Street police station.
Shall I come round there, or will you come round here?
Do you get my voice quite clearly ?".
Bates replied grimly that he did. There was no occa-
sion whatever to trouble Rigby any further to-night.
Then the inspector turned to Anstruther, and tapped him
on the shoulder.
“I think there is no reason to carry this farce any


338
The
The Yellow Face
bered all that Serena had gone through, and warmly con-
gratulated her upon the recovery of her boy.
“ It means all the world to me,” Serena cried. “It
fell out exactly as Miss Helmsley said it would. When
that man called to see Mr. Anstruther again, I told him
who I was, and he took me to my child at once. The
stranger had been very kind to the lad. He knew nothing
of the rascality and villainy behind it all, and he was only
too glad to see mother and son united."
"And Padini ?" Jack suggested. “You must not
forget —
"I want to forget everything about him," Serena cried.
" I shall be glad, really glad, to know that that man is
outside the power of doing mischief for the next three
years. Do not ask me anything else-do not ask me, for
instance, why I was playing the deaf-mute that night at
Carrington's rooms. I don't know. I was a mere slave
and tool in Anstruther's hands, and had to do exactly as
he told me. It was only by the merest accident that I
discovered how the trick of the music was done, and that
I should have had to have kept to myself if my dear boy
had not been so marvelously restored to me. Perhaps at
some future time, I may be disposed to tell you more.
For the present, all I want to do is to sleep. I am long-
ing for that one night's sweet repose which has been so
cruelly denied to me the last few years."
Jack said no more. He left the house presently with
the intention of seeing Rigby at once, and then of calling
on Lady Barmouth the first thing in the morning, and
making such arrangements as would conduce to the com-
fort of Claire and Serena.


CHAPTER XLVIII
THE PROOF OF THE CAMERA
SOCIETY generally had plenty to talk about in the way of
scandal next morning, when it became known that Spencer
Anstruther had been arrested in connection with the
burglary of the City and Provincial Bank. The only paper
giving anything like the account of the arrest, naturally,
was the Planet, which paper vaguely hinted at further dis-
closures in the early future. Jack read the account over
the breakfast table, and smiled as he recognized the hand
of Rigby in all this. He would see Rigby presently, and
ascertain exactly what had taken place last night at the
Great Metropolitan Hotel. First of all, he had to see
Lady Barmouth, who had already heard something of the
news. She listened with vivid interest to all that Jack
had to say, then announced her intention of going to
Panton Square at once.
“I shall bring my sister and Claire here,” she said.
“They shall stay as long as they please. As to my sister
and her boy, I shall be delighted to have them. I presume
there will be some sort of proceedings against Anstruther
this morning?"
To the great disappointment of the public, when An-
struther came to be charged at Bow Street the evidence
was purely formal. The prisoner had elected not to be
represented by a lawyer, and, with a view of expediting
the proceedings, had formally pleaded guilty to the charge,
and asked to be committed to the Central Criminal Court,
which took place a week from now.
“Clever chap that,” Bates said, as he and Rigby, to-
gether with Jack, turned into Covent Garden. “ Pretty
cool, too. He wants to save time, of course, and get the
339


Proof Positive
347
means of which the public would have been deluded into
believing that a great robbery had taken place. The wit-
ness Seymour has also informed you that he had meant to
be present when this bogus burglary took place an event
that subsequently happened. It was only when the Cellini
plate lay outside the bank strong room that the most
ingenious idea occurred to Seymour.
"He has told us how, by means of a greasy rag, he
smeared over the service of plate, which was subsequently
placed by Anstruther's own hand in Carrington's safe.
Beyond all question, the imprints of Anstruther's fingers
must have remained on the plate; indeed, we shall prove
this beyond question before long. By way of making the
thing absolutely certain, it was necessary to get a proper
impression of Anstruther's hands. Hence the comedy of
the magician-a little comedy which shall be explained
later—which character was quite easily carried out at a
fancy dance like Lady Barmouth's. I am aware, my
lord, that my proceeding is a little irregular, but I want to
clear the thing up as I go along. If the prisoner has any
objection, I will, of course, conduct my case — "
“ The prisoner has no objection whatever," Anstruther
growled. “I say the whole thing is a conspiracy, and a
rascally one at that."
“ The proceedings are somewhat irregular," the judge
interposed, “but seeing that the prisoner declines to be
legally represented — "
Anstruther shrugged his shoulders, and the Prosecuting
Counsel went on. He had little more to say on the
present head. He now proposed to call Sir Frederick
Ormond.
The popular young statesman stepped into the witness-
box with a jaunty air, and a smile which suggested amuse-
ment; in fact, he seemed to regard the whole thing in the
light of a very good joke.
"I want you, Sir Frederick," the Crown lawyer went
on, “to tell us exactly what happened in regard to this
magician business at Lady Barmouth's house the other
night."


348
The Yellow Face
“Really, there is very little to tell you," Ormond
smiled. “I regarded it as all part of the fun. I was
sitting close to the table occupied by the prisoner and the
mysterious magician; in fact, I regarded the whole thing
as a pure piece of comedy got up between those gentlemen
to amuse the guests."
"You had no notion of the magician's name, then ?"
the lawyer asked. “You were not taken into the
secret?"
“Oh, dear no. It seemed to me to be a very clever
piece of acting. I must confess I was just a little im-
pressed when the crystal was placed in the box, after
being firmly held by the prisoner for a few moments.
The magician asked for the box to be sealed, which was
done, and the thing subsequently passed into my pos-
session."
“Stop one moment," Anstruther cried. “That box
was sealed up and taken away by you. Nobody else
touched it?"
The witness explained that nobody handled the box
besides himself until Inspector Bates fetched it away under
an authority from Scotland Yard. Sir Frederick went on
to explain that he had been present when the seal of the
box was broken.
“Nobody could tamper with it during the time you had
it, I suppose ?" Anstruther asked. “You kept it under
lock and key?".
“The whole time," the witness cried. “ You must un-
derstand that I am quite used to keeping valuable docu-
ments and that kind of thing. I took that box straight
home, and locked it securely away in a drawer in my safe,
where it remained until the police fetched it."
Asked if he had any further questions to put, Anstruther
sullenly declined. He still harped upon the string that
this was a criminal conspiracy got up against him by the
police, and insinuated that the mysterious magician was
nothing else than a detective smuggled into Lady Bar-
mouth's house for the purpose of trapping him.
“I think it would be as well, my lord, to sweep away


350
The Yellow Face
“I am just coming to that," Seymour said quietly.
“I knew that when the plate came to be photographed by
the police, the finger prints would show quite clearly on
the glass slide. It is necessary to have a corresponding
set of prints, hence my idea of the magician and the
crystal ball. As a matter of fact, Lord Barmouth is a
great friend of mine ; indeed, we have suffered a lot at
the hands of the prisoner. It was, therefore, not difficult
for me to procure an invitation to Lady Barmouth's dance,
which I attended in the dress of a magician. I was the
magician. I arranged the plan myself, and I obtained
the impression of those finger tips, which will show pres-
ently, when they are compared with those taken from the
set of Cellini plate. I have nothing more to say for the
present."
Anstruther intimated that he had no questions to ask
the witness. He had come into court prepared to take
advantage of anything in his favor, trusting to his in-
telligence and audacity to pull him through. But not for
a moment had he guessed how strong a case the police
had piled up against him. Not that he gave the police
any credit for the business at all. He could see quite
clearly that they would have done nothing without the aid
of Seymour. Had the latter not taken in hand the mat-
ter, the police would never have discovered his connection
with the bogus burglary; and, however much Carrington
might subsequently have suffered, the main rogue in the
play would have gone off scot free.
It was a dramatic story that Seymour had told the
court, and every word that he had said was followed with
the most rapt attention. The sensation of seeing Nostalgo
in the flesh would have been enough for most people, but
when one of the most mysterious personages that had ever
excited the attention of London stood up like this, the
central figure of a great crime, the excitement was multi-
plied a hundredfold.
There was a pause here, and the lawyer of the Crown
looked significantly at Bates. The latter rose, and pro-
duced a cardboard box and something that looked like an


Proof Positive
351
exaggerated camera. There was a breathless pause, for
everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. Even the
judge leaned forward eagerly, wondering what was going to
happen next.
“We are going to prove the identification of the finger
marks,” the lawyer explained. “For this purpose we
shall have to darken the court, and throw the photographs
on a large sheet which has been pinned to the wall at the
back of the building. I trust your lordship will have no
objection to this course."
The judge was understood to say that he objected to
nothing calculated to further the ends of justice. The
fashionable audience thrilled. Society settled down to the
knowledge that it was going to have a new sensation.
Ladies ceased the rustling of their fans, and the whisper-
ing and giggling stopped, for here was a drama far more
realistic and terrible than anything ever seen upon the
stage. A man's future literally hung upon the fair white
cloth suspended from the wall at the end of the court.
The lights went out one by one, until there was nothing
left but the pallid flame of the lantern lamp, which faintly
picked out the eager eyes and parted lips of the excited
spectators. Then the lamp vanished, and almost imme-
diately a brilliant disc of light was thrown on the white
sheet. In the long lane of flame the little motes of dust
and fluff danced and fickered. Here and there, as a
hand or an arm went up from those at the back of the
lantern, ghostly accusing shadows seemed to fit. Out of
the darkness the voice of the Crown Counsel came with a
startling suddenness.
“In the first instance," he said, “ we propose to throw
on the screen the magnified photograph of certain finger
impressions taken from the Cellini plate. These photo-
graphs were made at Scotland Yard, and developed by
the expert who is now assisting us in this matter. Here,
my lord, and gentlemen of the jury, is the first of the
magnified photographs."
The great white shining disc disappeared as if by magic
for a moment, and then upon it there stood out a wonder.


352
The Yellow Face
ful reproduction of the right and left palms and finger tips
of a human hand. Magnified so largely, every line and
scar and little filament could be seen. It was as if some
painstaking engraver had worked up the whole thing under
a powerful microscope.
“ There we have the impression of the prisoner's hands
as taken from the Cellini plate," the lawyer went on.
“If we are wrong, it is for the prisoner to prove it. But
to make matters absolutely certain, the next plate will
show the same finger prints as taken from the crystal ball.
We know from the highest authority that the crystal ball
was last in the hands of the prisoner.”
The photograph vanished, the great white disc shone
out again, and once more it was obscured by an almost
precisely similar photograph. It would have been an ex-
pert, indeed, who could have found out any dissimilarity
between the two pictures.
“And now, to make matters doubly sure," the lawyer
said, “we propose to reproduce the two photographs
superimposed one on the top of the other."
Another exciting monient followed, a pause of almost
painful interest; and then the two slides were placed in
the lantern at once. They stood out on the sheet, just a
shade misty and indistinct, like a badly printed picture;
but the veriest novice there could see at once for himself
that they were the same hands. As suddenly as it had
vanished the lights flashed up again, and every eye was
turned upon Anstruther's white and rigid face.
"My lord,” he said, in a hoarse, strained voice, " with
your permission, I should like it adjourned until to-mor-
row."


CHAPTER L
ON THE BRINK
It was quite evident that the strong man was breaking
down under the strain of these damning proofs. He
would, apparently, have said more if he could, but his lips
were dry, and the back of his throat appeared to have
turned to ashes. With a shaking hand he lifted the glass
of water which had been placed on a little ledge before
him, and drank it down eagerly.
"What object do you expect to gain by this course ?"
the judge asked. “If you have any witnesses to
call -
Anstruther intimated that he had. The eager audience
appeared to be disappointed. It was as if they had just
witnessed the first act of a powerful drama which had
ended abruptly owing to some unforeseen circumstance.
Still, the prisoner was likely to have his own way over this,
seeing that he was undefended by counsel; indeed,
it was only fair that no obstacle should be put in his way.
“Very well, then," the judge said briefly. “The case
is adjourned till ten o'clock to-morrow morning."
Five minutes later the court was deserted, and another
judge was listening to some prosaic case of no importance
whatever. Seymour had made his way rapidly out of
court, followed by a curious crosd. He was quite calm
and collected, though he had taken the precaution to hide
his features as much as possible. Jack and Rigby caught
him just at the moment that he was entering his cab.
“Where are you going to ?" the latter said. “I have
got a thousand questions to ask you. Don't run away like
this."
“I wasn't going anywhere in particular," Seymour ex-
plained. “I have nothing to do but to kill time. It
353


On the Brink
355
in which those people revenged themselves upon outsiders
who had the temerity to invade the region of the gold belt.
Mind you, they were a powerful tribe, and in some remote
age or other had evidently been highly civilized. At the
time Ferris and Barmouth and myself had the misfortune
to find ourselves prisoners in their hands, they were abso-
lutely eaten up with priestcraft. As I think I told you be-
fore, the most powerful man in the tribe was not a native
at all, but an Englishman. You will not be surprised to
hear that the Englishman's name was Anstruther. I did
not know then as I know now what that man had gone
through to learn the secret of where the great masses of
gold were hidden. Interrupting my narrative for a mo-
ment-have either of you ever noticed a faint resemblance
between Anstruther and any other Nostalgo like myself?"
“I have," Jack cried. “ Especially in moments of
passion."
" That I can quite easily understand," Seymour went
on. “When Anstruther first fell into the hands of those
people he was served in exactly the same way as I was
served myself; in other words, one of those diabolically
clever surgeons in the tribe turned him into a Nostalgo.
Don't ask me how it is done; don't ask me to explain how
the muscles are cut and knotted and twisted so as to give
one the hideous deformity of face which is my curse at
present. But Anstruther carried the same intolerable
burden in his day. Why he was retained amongst the
tribe; why he was not sent out into the world as an ex-
ample to others, is not for me to say. Perhaps he made
himself useful, for he is a clever man. Perhaps they had
need of his services. At any rate, the devilish surgeon
who could make a man look like a hideous demon fully
understood the art of restoring a face to its normal aspect.”
“But Ferris has discovered a surgeon who can do that,"
Jack explained. “He has already told us so."
“It is on Ferris's little Frenchman that I mainly rely,"
Seymour said. “ Otherwise, I should fade out of this
business, and you would see me no more."
“ There is one thing I cannot understand," Rigby put


356
The Yellow Face
in. “Why did Anstruther cause all those posters to be
placed on the principal hoardings of London?"
“ Because Ferris had escaped him," Seymour explained.
“ You see, he wanted Ferris very badly. He could black-
mail him, and hoped to go on doing so with impunity.
But Ferris gave his tormentor the slip, and placed himself
in the hands of that clever French surgeon. Once the
cure was complete, Ferris could have passed Anstruther in
the street without the least fear of being recognized. He
had only to change his name, and the thing was done."
“But I don't quite understand yet,” Jack said.
“Well, you see, Ferris is a very sensitive man, and
cursed with a lively imagination. That was where An-
struther's wonderful intellect came in. He had lost his
man, and was determined to find him once more. Hence
those accusing posters, that were destined to meet Ferris's
eye at every turn, and so play upon his nerves that he
would be glad to give himself up, and make the best terms
he could. It was just the sort of scheme to appeal to An-
struther, and I am quite sure that if Ferris had not met his
friend the surgeon, the plan would have been brilliantly
successful. And now, if you don't mind, I should like to
go as far as the Great Metropolitan Hotel and talk this
matter over with Ferris. I am not in the least likely to be
called to-morrow ; indeed, it seems to me that I have fin-
ished my task so far as Anstruther is concerned. This
being so, the sooner I place myself in the hands of the
French surgeon the better. My word! If you men could
only understand the life I have led the past three years!"
Seymour turned away, and hid his face for a moment.
The other two could respect and understand his feelings,
for a long pause followed. When Seymour paused again,
he was more calm and collected. He pitched his cigar
into the fireplace, and suggested calling a cab and going
off to the Great Metropolitan Hotel at once. Ferris ap-
peared only too glad to see them ; indeed, he was much
better and more cheerful than he had been a night or two
ago, when Fate had so strangely brought Jack and himself
together. Most of the plaster had been removed from his


On the Brink
357
face by this time, and, so far as his visitors could see, there
were only the faintest traces that the knife had been used
to remove the terrible brand of the Nostalgo scourge.
“I expect to be out in two or three days," Ferris ex-
plained. “I shall walk the streets with all the more
pleasure now that I know there is no chance of meeting
Anstruther. I have just been reading an account of the
trial in one of the evening papers.”
Seymour grasped his old comrade's hand, and drew
him eagerly to the light. It was brilliant sunshine outside,
so that the face of Ferris was picked out clearly. Despite
his assumed calmness, there was a trembling anxiety in
Seymour's eyes. Long and earnestly did he gaze at the
pale features of his friend.
“Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, I can hope at last. What
a wonderful operator your surgeon must be. So far as I
can see, you have no marks whatever, except here and
there some star-shaped scars, which will vanish in the
course of a few days."
“They will be gone altogether at the end of a week,"
Ferris said. “ At least, so my doctor says."
“ Amazing !” Seymour cried. “Why, I myself have
tried specialists in nearly every capital in Europe. Every
one of them was utterly ignorant of how the thing had
been brought about, and not a single operator of the lot
could give me the faintest hope of my ever being any
better; and yet here you find a comparatively unknown
man, who places his finger on the right spot at once. How
did he manage it?".
“That is quite easily explained,” Ferris said. “You
will not be surprised to hear that this Doctor Benin has
led a life of adventure. He was out in Mexico four years
ago with an exploring party, and accidentally came in con-
tact with the same tribe that has cost us both so dear."
"Ah," exclaimed Seymour. "Now I begin to under-
stand. Like the rest of us, Doctor Benin was after the
gold. I presume he came under the ban of the tribe, who
made a Nostalgo out of him, and turned him out as
hideous as the rest of us."


362
The Yellow Face
thus disappeared forever from the society of his fellow
men. The whole thing was over now, and the dramatic
trial was finished. It was, perhaps, a fitting ending to a
sensational case, which had been full of surprises from
beginning to end. In spite of it all, Jack looked grave
and somewhat anxious. Now that the affair was over,
he could find it in his heart to have a little pity for An-
struther.
" Why so grave and silent ?" Rigby asked.
"I think you understand," Jack said quietly. " It
always seems to me a sad thing to see a man of such
brilliant talents in so degraded a situation. Anstruther
might have done anything. With an intellect like his he
might have climbed to the highest places. And yet he
prefers deliberately to remain a criminal.".
"The criminal instinct must have been always there,"
Benin said. “There are some men who cannot go
straight, and your brilliant Anstruther is one of them."
The audience was pouring out of the court now, talking
eagerly and excitedly of the events of the morning. Only
a few people remained now, and, glancing indifferently
over them, Jack noted the pale, anxious features of Car-
rington. The man lingered behind, as if afraid to face
the open air. He shrank back shaking and despairing as
Bates walked over in his direction.
“Very sorry, Mr. Carrington," said the latter, “but
my duty is quite clear before me. We had our own rea-
sons for not placing you in the dock along with your
friend, because we might have had to call you as a wit-
ness. As I promised you, I will do all I can to let you
down as easily as possible, but I hold a warrant for your
arrest on the grounds of theft and conspiracy, and I am
bound to execute it. You will be good enough to come
this way, please."
The wretched man whined and whimpered. But there
was nothing for it now but to follow the detective, and, so
far as Carrington was concerned, the story is finished.
By this time Jack and his companions were in the street.
They lingered there chatting together, uncertain as to


Against the World
363
what to do next, when Benin proceeded to solve the prob-
lem. He suggested the advisability of his having an in-
terview with Lord Barmouth without delay.
“ You tell me his lordship has already heard of me,"
he said. “After my own experiences, I can imagine what
his feelings have been the last few years. I want to see
him at once, and convince him that within a month he will
be free to stand before his fellow men, as Ferris will be
within the next few days."
Barmouth had lost no time in leaving the court directly
he discovered that there would be no occasion for him to
enter the witness-box.
When Jack and the others reached Belgrave Square,
Barmouth had already removed the strips of plaster from
his face, and was walking up and down his study with the
restless air of one whose mind is ill at ease. All the same,
he seemed to divine the cause of Benin's presence, for he
held out his hand and smiled gratefully.
“I know you come to me in the guise of a friend, Doc-
tor Benin," he said. “Is it too much to hope that you
can cure me as you cured my friend Ferris?".
“ There is no doubt about it whatever," the Frenchman
said. “It is all a matter of an operation on the muscles
of the face. You will be yourself again; even that hor-
rible yellow tinge will disappear from your skin. I should
like, if possible, to operate upon Seymour and yourself at
the same time. I dare say you have some quiet country
place that we could go to ?".
There was more than one such retreat, as Barmouth pro.
ceeded to explain. They talked over the matter eagerly
and earnestly for some time, until a message arrived that
Mr. Anstruther earnestly desired an interview with Lord
Barmouth. The latter started and shook his head. He
had no disposition whatever to see Anstruther again. But
as he thought the matter over, kindlier thoughts prevailed.
After all, the man was past all power of mischief, and de-
spite the way in which he had carried himself off, must
have felt his position most keenly. On the whole, Bar-
mouth decided to go.


Against the World
365
I always meant to kill you. When I was paying black-
mail to you under a name other than my own I was ever
plotting the opportunity which would have betrayed you
into my hands. I should have deemed it no crime to have
rid the world of a scoundrel like yourself. And yet, as
God is my witness, when I see you here like this, an out-
cast and a felon, when I think of the terrible way in which
your great talents have been wasted, I have nothing but
pity for your lamentable condition.'
Anstruther took a step forward, the veins on his fore-
head knotted, his hands were clenched in a paroxysm of
passion.
“ Don't talk like that,” he said hoarsely. “Don't be-
gin to pity me, or I shall fly out and strangle you. If
there was no chance of you ever being anything but what
you are--I mean so far as your personal appearance is con-
cerned--I would willingly change places with you at this
moment. And I was a Nostalgo myself, and know what
the punishment means. But I did not bring you here to
talk entirely about myself. I have felt for a long time
that Jack Masefield has viewed me with suspicion. Per-
haps he thinks I am unaware of his engagement to Claire.
Why, I knew every movement of his. He will be sur-
prised to hear that I knew he was in the cupboard near
Padini's room the time I was spying about there. What
was I after? Well, Padini had certain papers of mine,
and it was not policy to accuse him of the theft then. Just
as if open-minded people like those could deceive me. I
can quite forgive Masefield for his caution, but you can
tell him that Claire's fortune has suffered nothing at my
hands. Not that I wish to take any credit for that; it is
merely that the other trustee, being a shrewd lawyer, was
too clever for me. However, Claire has her two thousand
a year intact, and she is free to marry Masefield when she
likes.
"There is another matter of which I wish to speak to
you-that is, as regards Serena. I understand that she is
Lady Barmouth's sister. Well, I am glad of that, because
the poor woman and her boy will have a happy home in


CHAPTER LII
THE END OF IT ALL
BARMOUTH could see a little speck of foam like a white
feather on the lips of his companion. He saw Anstruther
throw up his head, and the apple of his throat moved as
if in the act of swallowing. The whole thing had been so
swift and unexpected, that Barmouth could not blame
himself for what had happened. There was no occasion
to tell him that the pearl had contained some deadly
poison, for already the effect of it was apparent on An.
struther's features. He gasped painfully as if some ter.
rible pain had gripped him by the heart, his features
twitched horribly, yet he smiled with the air of a man
who is by no means displeased with himself.
« Yes," he said quite naturally, “I think it will be just
as well if you called in the warder who is watching us
through that grating in the door, and tell him everything
that has happened.”
Barmouth lost no time in doing so. There was a great
tramping and commotion in the corridor outside, and
presently Bates and the prison doctor rushed in. By this
time Anstruther was seated on the only chair in the cell;
there was a heavy bead of moisture on his face. He
smiled faintly at Bates.
" It is exactly as Lord Barmouth has said," he ex-
plained. “When your people deprived me of everything
that I possessed they forgot to remove a tiny pearl-headed
pin from my scarf. It was only a very small pearl-you
could have bought the thing in any West-End shop for a
sovereign ; but the gem was not so innocent as it appeared
to be. Inside I had caused to be placed one spot of
deadly poison no larger than a pin's head. I have had it
there for years in case of an emergency. I have always
had a presentiment that sooner or later the end would be
367


370
The Yellow Face
I can see I shall have to be very severe with you. Now
answer me a question, sir,"
“ A dozen if you like," Jack replied. “What is it?"
“ Well, about the time we first met, and you were so
foolish as to fall in love with me. Confess it now : did
not you regard me as a poor dependent of Mr. An-
struther's, without so much as a penny of my own? I
knew that you loved me long before you told me somI
felt it here at my heart. And yet when you asked me to
be your wife, not so many weeks ago, and suggested we
should keep the matter a secret as we were too poor to
marry, you did not know then that I was an heiress in a
small way.”
“I am prepared to admit it," Jack said. “But you
see, my darling, it is pretty certain that some people -
With a pretty little imperious gesture, Claire laid her
hand on her lover's lips. Her eyes looked sweetly into
his.
"I am not going to hear another word,” she cried.
“Oh, what does it matter to anybody as long as we are
satisfied. My dearest boy, do you want me to go down
on my knees, and implore you to marry me? I will do it
if you like."
Jack's reply was evidently suitable, and to the point,
for the fond look came over Claire's face again, and for
some time they were silent. It was Claire who broke the
silence at length.
“ You need me," she whispered. “We shall be none
the less happy, because that dark cloud of poverty is not
likely to dim our future. I have pictured to myself a
dear little house in the country where we could have roses
and trim lawns and old world gardens, and where you
could work in a beautiful study lined with old oak and
filled with blue china. I don't mind telling you, Jack,
that I have picked out the house, and my other guardian
is now settling the purchase of it for me. Think how nice
it would be to be able to sit down every morning with a
contented mind, and not care whether you did one page
or twenty, so long as you felt sure that you were doing


The End of It All
371
nothing but your best work. I always think every author
ought to have a fortune of his own, and thus be without
the necessity of turning out his work by the yard, so to
speak.”
Claire might have said more, only she noted the dancing
imp of mischief in Jack's eyes. He kissed her tenderly
again.
“I had no idea I was going to have so practical a
wife," Jack said. “But do not let us be altogether selfish;
let us give a thought or two to other people. There is
not the slightest reason why the full significance of this
Nostalgo business should ever be made public. And no
more posters will appear; the public will marvel for a
time and ask questions, then the thing will be forgotten
when the next great sensation comes along. I will tell
Rigby that he is to mention no names when he tells his
wonderful story in the Planet-at least, he is not to
mention the naines of any of our friends. Now let us go
down to the dining-room, and see what they have arranged.
I am very anxious to know.”
Meanwhile, all the arrangements had been completed by
those most concerned. As Lord Barmouth explained,
he had a very quiet country place in the neighborhood of
Hindhead, and there the operation upon himself and
Seymour was to take place.
"I want Claire to come with me," Lady Barmouth
said. “Of course, Serena and her boy will be with us,
and I understand that arrangements are being made to rid
us finally of the attentions of Signor Padini. The place is
near enough to London for Mr. Masefield to run down as
often as he finds it possible. My dear Claire, you are
looking so radiantly happy, that I need not ask you if you
have settled matters with Jack."
" It was not an easy task," Claire laughed and blushed,
“I almost had to go down on my knees to him. He said
he would be accused of fortune hunting or something
equally absurd.”.
“I am exceedingly glad to hear of it," Lady Barmouth
said heartily. “I have set my heart upon a little pro-


鄉鄉公驗器
​PATHS
POWER
| By FLOYD B. WILSON
上型酸鹽酸鹽酸體驗並整整
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One's Atmosphere
Growth
A Psychic Law in Student Work
Unfoldment
Power : How to Attain It
Harmony
The Assertion of the I
The Tree of Knowledge-of Good and Evil
Conditions
Faith
Back of Vibrations
Wasted Energy
Something About Genius
Shakespeare: How He Told His Secret in the
"Dream" and the “Tempest
感像像素偶像邊緣邊條​、臺學學傳導像像像德隊灣灣彎彎
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Man, Limitless
Love
The Christ Principle Through Intuition
Work
Control of Memory
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Pathway to Achievement
Children of the Gods
Shakespeare's Ariel
Spirit Aid in Man's Unfoldment
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OVER 19 HOURS
SAVED TO MEXICO.
DINING CARS, "Meals a la Carte."
H.C. TOWNSEND,
G. P. and T. Agent, ST. LOUIS, M
.


TRAVEL SOUTH
1
VIA

SENEST 23
QUEEN & CRESCENTI
ROUTE
AND
SOUTHERN RAILWAY
Double Daily Service
and Fastest Schedule
BETWEEN
Cincinnati
Atlanta
Chattanooga
Asheville
Birmingham
Savannah
Shreveport
Jacksonville
New Orleans
Tampa
and Texas Points
Through Pullman Draming-Room Sleepers. Cafe and
Parlor Observation Cars. Write for broklets and rates,
W. A. GARRETT, General Manager,
W. C, RINEARSON, General Passenger Agent
CINCINNATI.