I stared at him in dumb agony.

“I think, Captain Hastings, that you will write that letter. See, I have a cable form here. The message I shall write on it depends on you, and means life or death for 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?”