The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

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 mysterious manner, and beckoned deliberately to Jack. He did not appear in the least agitated; on the contrary, his expression 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 something 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."

As was quite natural in the circumstances, Jack hesitated 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 conversation 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 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 bedroom. 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 recovering 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."