The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

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."

"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 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."