Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There they stood in the empty room, neither speaking, and gazing about them as if they expected some solution of the strange mystery to fall upon them. The wildest part of the whole thing was that though the music continued in the same sweet, harmonious way, there was not the slightest suggestion or indication of where it came from. It could not possibly have been a phonograph or a gramophone or anything of that kind, as the instrument in that case would have been in sight. And yet the whole room was flooded with that beautiful melody as if an invisible choir had been there making the music of the gods.
"I declare it makes me feel quite queer," Rigby said; "but of course there must be some practical explanation of it. Can you suggest any common sense solution?"