system—or it might have been a shrewd guess. Bronsen

was bound to cable me. They would wait until the cable

was delivered and would strike hard upon it.

No good could come of denying what was palpably

true.

"Yes," I said. "I did get a telegram."

"You fetch him, yes? Fetch him now."

I ground my teeth, but what could I do. I ran upstairs

again. As I did so, I thought of confiding in Mrs. Pearson, at any rate as far as Cinderella's disappearance

went. She was on the landing, but close behind her was

the little maid servant, and I hesitated. If she was a

spy—the words of the note danced before my eyes. "... she will suffer. ..." I passed into the sitting-room without speaking.

I took up the telegram and was about to pass out

again when an idea struck me. Could I not leave some

sign which would mean nothing to my enemies but

which Poirot himself would find significant. I hurried

across to the bookcase and tumbled out four books on

to the floor. No fear of Poirot's not seeing them. They

would outrage his eyes immediately--and coming on

top of his little lecture, surely he would find them

unusual. Next I put a shovelful of coal on the fire and

managed to spill four knobs into the grate. I had done

all I could--pray Heaven Poirot would read the sign

aright.

I hurried down again. The Chinaman took the

telegram from me, read it, then placed it in his pocket

and with a nod beckoned me to follow him.

It was a long weary march that he led me. Once we

took a bus and once we went for some considerable way

in a train, and always our route led us steadily eastward. We went through strange districts, the existence I had

never dreamed of. We were down by the docks now, I

knew, and I realised that I was being taken into the

heart of Chinatown.

In spite of myself I shivered. Still my guide plodded

on, turning and twisting through mean streets and byways, until at last he stopped at a dilapidated house and rapped four times upon the door.

It was opened immediately by another Chinaman who

stood aside to let us pass in. The clanging to of the door behind me was the knell of my last hopes. I was indeed

in the hands of the enemy.

I was now handed over to the second Chinaman. He

led me down some rickety stairs and into a cellar which

was filled with bales and casks and which exhaled a

pungent odour, as of Eastern spices. I felt wrapped all

round with the atmosphere of the East, tortuous, cunning, sinister-Suddenly my guide rolled aside two of the casks, and I saw a low tunnel-like opening in the wall. He motioned me to go ahead. The tunnel was of some length, and it

was just too low for me to stand upright. At last, however, it broadened out into a passage, and a few minutes