The Yellow Face

by Fred M. White

"So you have come at last," the man with the cigar muttered. "I thought you were going to keep me here all night."

"It is all very well for you," the newcomer said. "You can walk about the world with your head held up; you have no occasion to hide yourself from the light of day. If only this business was done and over, you would never find me in one of Anstruther's schemes again."

There was something exceedingly striking in the voice of the speaker; it was by no means an unmusical voice; the enunciation was clear and defined. But there was a peculiar rasping ring in it, a jarring, metallic discord as if some one had struck two plates of steel together. It was a commanding voice, too, and the man with the cigar seemed to feel it.

"I suppose you know your own business best," he muttered in a tone which was plainly intended to be that of an apology. "Funny thing, isn't it, that you and I should be conspiring here, within a pistol shot of Shannon Street police station? Those chaps yonder are still scratching their heads over the disappearance of the man they call Nostalgo."

The other man laughed; his voice rang as an echo rings in a cave. He laughed again a little more gently.

"Yes," he said, "we could throw a very blinding light on that mystery. Have they offered any reward for the discovery of the body?"

"Oh, dear, yes," the other man chuckled. "Two hundred pounds and a free pardon to any accomplice not actually connected with the outrage. Wouldn't it be a fine thing to earn that reward?"

"I'll think it over and see if we can't manage it," said the newcomer. "Fancy hoodwinking the police in that way! All the same, I don't quite like this reward business; it's just the thing to appeal to that scoundrel Redgrave. Anstruther never made a greater mistake than when he took Redgrave into his confidence. That fellow would do anything for a few hundred pounds."

"Well, you will have an opportunity of sounding him presently. He is coming to see you about those West African bonds. As for myself, I have business of greatest importance in the East-End. I only stayed here till you came because Anstruther said that it was absolutely imperative for you to have these papers to-night."

So saying, the speaker took a small packet from his pocket and handed it over to his companion. He turned away, and a moment later had vanished into the night. The sole remaining man appeared to be restless and ill at ease. As he paced up and down the ragged and deserted forecourt, the two friends, cautiously peeping through the up-stairs window, could see that he was lame and that one shoulder was higher than the other. He was muttering to himself, too, in some foreign language that conveyed nothing to the listeners.