{"product_id":"2940013755710","title":"The Face in the Night","description":"THE MAN FROM THE SOUTH\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE fog, which was later to descend upon London, blotting out every\u003cbr\u003elandmark, was as yet a grey, misty threat. The light had gone from the\u003cbr\u003esky, and the street-lamps made a blurred showing when the man from the\u003cbr\u003eSouth came unsteadily into Portman Square. In spite of the raw cold he\u003cbr\u003ewore no overcoat; his shirt was open at his throat. He walked along,\u003cbr\u003epeering up at the doors, and presently he stopped before No. 551 and made\u003cbr\u003ea survey of the darkened windows. The corner of his scarred mouth lifted\u003cbr\u003ein a sardonic smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStrong drink magnifies all dominant emotions. The genial man grows more\u003cbr\u003efond of his fellows, the quarrelsome more bitter. But in the man who\u003cbr\u003eharbours a sober grievance, booze brings the red haze that enshrouds\u003cbr\u003emurder. And Laker had both the grievance and the medium of magnification.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe would teach this old devil that he couldn't rob men without a\u003cbr\u003ecome-back. The dirty skinflint who lived on the risk which his betters\u003cbr\u003ewere taking. Here was Laker, almost penniless, with a long and painful\u003cbr\u003evoyage behind him, and the memory of the close call that had come in Cape\u003cbr\u003eTown, when his room had been searched by the police. A dog's life--that\u003cbr\u003ewas what he was living. Why should old Malpas, who had not so long to\u003cbr\u003eexist, anyway, live in luxury whilst his best agent roughed it? Laker\u003cbr\u003ealways felt like this when he was drunk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was hardly the type that might be expected to walk boldly up to the\u003cbr\u003efront door of 551 Portman Square. His long, unshaven face, the old knife\u003cbr\u003ewound that ran diagonally from cheek to point of chin, the low forehead,\u003cbr\u003ecovered with a ragged fringe of hair, taken in conjunction with his\u003cbr\u003eoutfit, suggested abject poverty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe stood for a moment, looking down at his awkward-looking boots, and\u003cbr\u003ethen, mounting the steps, he tapped slowly at the door. Instantly a voice\u003cbr\u003easked: \"Who is that?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Laker--that's who!\" he said loudly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA little pause, and the door opened noiselessly and he passed through.\u003cbr\u003eThere was nobody to receive him, nor did he expect to see a servant.\u003cbr\u003eCrossing the bare hall, he walked up the stairs, through an open door and\u003cbr\u003ea small lobby into a darkened room. The only light was from a\u003cbr\u003egreen-shaded lamp on the writing-table, at which an old man sat. Laker\u003cbr\u003estood just inside the room and heard the door close behind him. \"Sit\u003cbr\u003edown,\" said the man at the far end of the room. The visitor had no need\u003cbr\u003efor guidance: he knew exactly where the chair and table were, three paces\u003cbr\u003efrom where he stood, and without a word he seated himself. Again that\u003cbr\u003egrin of his twisted his face, but his repulsive-looking host could not\u003cbr\u003esee this. \"When did you come?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I came in the Buluwayo. We docked this morning,\" said Laker. \"I want\u003cbr\u003esome money, and I want it quick, Malpas!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Put down what you have brought, on the table,\" said the old man harshly.\u003cbr\u003e\"Return in a quarter of an hour and the money will be waiting for you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I want it now,\" said the other with drunken obstinacy. Malpas turned his\u003cbr\u003ehideous face towards the visitor. \"There's only one method in this shop,\"\u003cbr\u003ehe said gratingly, \"and that's mine! Leave it or take it away. You're\u003cbr\u003edrunk, Laker, and when you're drunk you're a fool.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Maybe I am. But I'm not such a fool that I'm going to take the risks\u003cbr\u003eI've been taking any more! And you're taking some too, Malpas. You don't\u003cbr\u003eknow who's living next door to you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe remembered this item of information, discovered by accident that very\u003cbr\u003emorning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man he called Malpas drew his padded dressing-gown a little closer\u003cbr\u003earound his shoulders, and chuckled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't know, eh? Don't know that Lacy Marshalt is living next door? Why\u003cbr\u003edo you think I'm living here, you fool, if it is not to be next to him?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe drunkard stared open-mouthed. \"Next to him . . . what for? He's one\u003cbr\u003eof the men you're robbing--he's a crook, but you're robbing him! What do\u003cbr\u003eyou want to get next to him for?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That's my business,\" said the other curtly. \"Leave the stuff and go.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Leave nothing,\" said Laker, and rose awkwardly to his feet. \"And I'm not\u003cbr\u003eleaving this place either, till I know all about you, Malpas. I've been\u003cbr\u003ethinking things out. You're not what you look. You don't sit at one end\u003cbr\u003eof this dark room and keep the likes of me at the other end for nothing.\u003cbr\u003eI'm going to have a good look at you, son. And don't move. You can't see\u003cbr\u003ethe gun in my hand, but you've got my word it's there!\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47079604355312,"sku":"2940013755710","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013755710_p0.jpg?v=1763589843","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013755710","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}