“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.”