The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

"I think it would be as well, my lord, to sweep away this impression at once," the Crown Counsel exclaimed. "I propose to put the magician in the box without delay."

Anstruther stared open-mouthed as Seymour once more came forward. The prisoner's quick intellect saw the whole scheme quite clearly now. Pressed as he was, and in danger as he was, he had just a touch of a grim smile of approval. It was a trap entirely after his own heart. Yet his eyes held a menace as they met those of Seymour. The latter returned the gaze. There was a merciless gleam in his own pupils as he faced the jury box.

"Here we have the mysterious magician," the Crown Counsel explained. "Perhaps you will tell us how you came to think of this thing. A mere outline will do."

"It came to me when I was watching those men in the vaults of the bank," Seymour explained in his deep, ringing voice. "I am very much interested in crime and criminals, and more than interested in the prisoner at the bar. I cannot forget--I shall never forget--the fact that, but for him, I should be as other men. To be revenged on him, and to expose one of the greatest scoundrels the world has ever seen, I came back to England. I found the prisoner a popular figure in society. I discovered that my task would be no easy one. I had, moreover, to be careful--my face is one that it is not easy to disguise. From the very first good fortune was on my side. I made one discovery after another--all tending to the discredit of the prisoner at the bar. I have already explained to the court how I became in a position to overhear the conspiracy that led to the robbery of the bank. Other witnesses will tell you in greater detail what happened that night at the bank. It was only when I heard the prisoner coolly arranging to appropriate that magnificent service of plate that my idea occurred to me. I was going to prove that the plate had been through Anstruther's hands. Of course, I am quite familiar with the Bertillon system, and here was a chance of putting it into practice. I hastily smeared the silver with grease, in order that the marks should be all the more distinct."

"What does all this acting lead to?" Anstruther cried.

"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 presently, 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 intelligence 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 matter, 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 multiplied a hundredfold.

There was a pause here, and the lawyer of the Crown looked significantly at Bates. The latter rose, and produced a cardboard box and something that looked like an 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."