Explore "The Yellow Face" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Jack had merely drawn a bow at a venture, but the shaft went home to the feather. By instinct he seemed to divine the fact that the stranger who knew so much of Anstruther's inner life might also know as much as the man called Nostalgo, otherwise Seymour. This instinct did not play Jack false, for he saw his companion stagger back as if he had been shot. He fell into a chair, and plucked feebly at the arms of it with his fingers.
"You are on dangerous ground indeed," he said hoarsely. "Have you a wife depending on you, or one you love? If so, turn your back upon me at once, and never see my face again."