Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Bates had laid his plans very carefully and very well indeed. In many respects Rigby had got the best of the detective, but this was as much due to circumstances as anything else. Still, when it came to the technical side of the case, Rigby was no match for the inspector. It was nearly nine o'clock before Bates called at Carrington's rooms and asked to see the latter. There was no occasion yet for Bates to assume the very effective disguise with which he was to trick Anstruther. There would be plenty of time for that. Carrington was just finishing his dinner -- so his man said. He was not very well, and did not care to see anybody. But Bates put the man aside in his own easy way, and walked into the dining-room without the trouble of announcing himself.
That Carrington was suffering from some mental and physical excitement was perfectly plain. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a twitching of his lips which told a plain tale to an experienced officer like Bates. Carrington scowled, and demanded the meaning of this unwarrantable intrusion.