Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Meanwhile, Carrington had been pacing up and down the room, obviously troubled and ill at ease. Anstruther watched him with a gleam of malicious amusement in his dark eyes. This strong man liked to feel that he had everybody in his power; it was good to him to know that he could move others as the man behind the curtain moves the puppets in a marionette show. It was not particularly that Anstruther cared for crime for its own sake, but he loved to be subtle and mysterious; it was a joy to him to get the better of his fellow creatures. Had Carrington but known it, the major part of the trouble which was racking his mind now had been brought about by the very man to whom he turned most readily in the hour of his misfortunes. He poured himself out a liberal dose of whiskey, and gulped it down without the formality of adding anything to it. He flung himself angrily into a chair.
"Now that that little ape is gone we can discuss my affairs," he said. "My dear Anstruther, I am the most desperate man in England to-night."