Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There was a man in the room surely enough. He was but half dressed; he had fallen forward over a table, apparently in a state of collapse. He seemed to be seeking something; and then Seymour saw that he was clutching at a bottle of brandy, of which he appeared to be in evident need. There was no suggestion of intoxication about him, so that Seymour had no hesitation in forcing a few drops of the potent fluid between the man's pallid lips.
Strange as the situation was, Seymour did not fail to notice the extraordinary way in which his companion's face was cut and scarred and bound with sticking plaster. Then he suddenly realized to whose assistance he had come. This was surely the man Jack Masefield had told him about -- the man who had sent him the ring, and who knew the whole history of the Nostalgo business. The invalid opened his eyes presently, and gazed in a dull kind of way at Seymour.