Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Jack needed no second bidding; he was only too anxious and eager to follow the direction of Rigby's outstretched finger. He was by no means lacking in the nerve and pluck which generally go to a young man of fine physique and clean habit. But there was something about the whole of this affair, a creeping suggestion of diabolical crime, such as one only encounters in the wildest realms of fiction.
And yet it seemed to Jack that his reading of the daily press recalled things just as vile in every-day life. With teeth clenched firmly, with a stern resolution to do nothing very likely to precipitate what might have been a terrible catastrophe, Jack looked into the room before him. As the door was half open and the two friends were hidden in the blackish shadow, it was possible to watch without the slightest chance of being seen.