The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

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 cognizant of the fact that Padini was still on the stage, bowing his acknowledgments of the thunderous applause which had greeted his magnificent efforts.

Yet a closer glance did not serve to show Claire anything 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 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 replied. "Jack, what is the meaning of this strange mystery? 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 prevent it at all hazards. I declare if I had not almost forgotten one of the most important things I had to say to you. On no account are you to breathe a word of this 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 herself on the fact that her engagement had been kept a secret from Anstruther.