your wife."

The sweat broke out on my brow. My tormentor

continued, smiling amiably, and speaking with perfect

sangfroid:-"There, captain, the pen is ready to your hand. You have only to write. If not--"

"If not?" I echoed.

"If not, that lady that you love dies--and dies slowly. My master, Li Chang Yen, amuses himself in his spare

hours by devising new and ingenious methods of tortures--"

"My God!" I cried. "You fiend! Not that--you wouldn't do that--"

"Shall I recount to you some of his devices?"

Without heeding my cry of protest, his speech flowed

on--evenly, serenely--till with a cry of horror I clapped my hands to my ears.

"It is enough, I see. Take up the pen and write."

"You would not dare--"

"Your speech is foolishness, and you know it. Take

up the pen and write."

"If I do?"

"Your wife goes free. The cable shall be despatched immediately."

"How do I know that you will keep faith with me?"

"I swear it to you on the sacred tombs of my ancestors. Moreover, judge for yourself--why should I wish

to do her harm? Her detention will have answered its

purpose."

"And--and Poirot?"

"We will keep him in safe custody until we have concluded our operations. Then we will let him go."

"Will you swear that also on the tombs of your

ancestors?"

"I have sworn one oath to you. That should be sufficient."

My heart sank. I was betraying my friend--to what?

For a moment I hesitated--then the terrible alternative

rose like a nightmare before my eyes. Cinderella--in the hands of these Chinese devils, dying by slow torture-A groan rose to my lips. I seized the pen. Perhaps by careful wording of the letter, I could convey a warning, and Poirot would be enabled to avoid the trap. It was

the only hope.

But even that hope was not to remain. The Chinaman's

voice rose, suave and courteous.

"Permit me to dictate to you."

He paused, consulted a sheaf of notes that lay by his

side, and then dictated as follows:-"Dear Poirot, I think I'm on the track of Number Four. A Chinaman came this afternoon

and lured me down here with a bogus message.

Luckily I saw through his little game in time, and

gave him the slip. Then I turned the tables on him,

and managed to do a bit of shadowing on my own

account--rather neatly too, I flatter myself. I'm

getting a bright young lad to carry this to you. Give

him a half a crown, will you? That's what I promised

him if it was delivered safely. I'm watching the house, and daren't leave. I shall wait for you until six o'clock, and if you haven't come then, I'll have

a try at getting into the house on my own. It's too

good a chance to miss, and, of course, the boy

mightn't find you. But if he does, get him to bring

you down here right away. And cover up those