The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

"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 happened after I found myself gagged and bound in that wonderful old temple, but I do know that one of those 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 anything. 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 absolute 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 disguise.

"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."