The Yellow Face by Fred M. White — Read

Anstruther's denunciation of himself rang out loud and clear, so that it was heard to the uttermost parts of the court. Nothing could have condemned him more than that speaking cry; there was wanted no witness more damning than his white face and staring eyes. In sooth, he had quite forgotten the crystal globe. It all came back to him now, and he saw vividly and clearly the semi-comedy which had been enacted at Lady Barmouth's dance by himself and the so-called magician. To a man of Anstruther's capabilities, the idea that he had walked headlong into a trap laid for him was maddening. He had devised so many cunning schemes for the lowering of others into confessions of crime, that it was all the more galling to find himself hoist with his own petard.

It was in vain that he strove to recover the ground he had lost. He could see a grim smile on the face of the judge, and even the suggestion of amusement in the jury box. He seemed as if about to burst into passionate protest, then placed his hands upon his lips, and maintained instead a stolid silence.