"I suppose," I said heavily, "you wanted to get me into your toils.
Well, you have succeeded.
I have come here with my eyes open.
Do what you like with me, and let her go.
She knows nothing, and she can be no possible use to you.
You've used her to get hold of me - you've got me all right, and that settles it."
The smiling Oriental caressed his smooth cheek, watching me obliquely out of his narrow eyes.
"You go too fast," he said purringly. "That does not quite - settle it.
In fact, to 'get hold of you' as you express it, is not really our objective.
But through you, we hope to get hold of your friend, M. Hercule Poirot."
"I'm afraid you won't do that," I said, with a short laugh.
"What I suggest is this," continued the other, his words running on as though he had not heard me. "You will write M. Hercule Poirot a letter, such a letter as will induce him to hasten hither and join you."
"I shall do no such thing," I said angrily.
"The consequences of refusal will be disagreeable."
"Damn your consequences." "The alternative might be death!" A nasty shiver ran down my spine, but I endeavoured to put a bold face upon it. "It's no good threatening me and bullying me.
Keep your threats for Chinese cowards."
"My threats are very real ones. Captain Hastings.
I ask you again, will you write this letter?"
"I will not, and what's more, you daren't kill me.
You'd have the police on your tracks in no time."
My interlocutor clapped his hands swiftly.
Two Chinese attendants appeared as it were out of the blue, and pinioned me by both arms.
Their master said something rapidly to them in Chinese, and they dragged me across the floor to a spot in one corner of the big chamber.
One of them stooped, and suddenly, without the least warning, the flooring gave beneath my feet.
But for the restraining hand of the other man I should have gone down the yawning gap beneath me.
It was inky black, and I could hear the rushing of water.
"The river," said my questioner from his place on the divan. "Think well, Captain Hastings.
If you refuse again, you go headlong to eternity, to meet your death in the dark waters below.
For the last time, will you write that letter?"
I'm not braver than most men.
I admit frankly that I was scared to death, and in a blue funk.
That Chinese devil meant business, I was sure of that.
It was goodbye to the good old world.
In spite of myself, my voice wobbled a little as I answered.
"For the last time, no!
To hell with your letter!"
Then involuntarily I closed my eyes and breathed a short prayer.
Chapter 13 THE MOUSE WALKS IN
Not often in a life-time does a man stand on the edge of eternity, but when I spoke those words in that East End cellar I was perfectly certain that they were my last words on earth.
I braced myself for the shock of those black, rushing waters beneath, and experienced in advance the horror of that breath-choking fall.
But to my surprise a low laugh fell on my ears.
I opened my eyes.
Obeying a sign from the man on the divan, my two jailers brought me back to my old seat facing him.
"You are a brave man. Captain Hastings," he said. "We of the East appreciate bravery.
I may say that I expected you to act as you have done.
That brings us to the appointed second act of our little drama.
Death for yourself you have faced - will you face death for another?"
"What do you mean?" I asked hoarsely, a horrible fear creeping over me.
"Surely you have not forgotten the lady who is in our power - the Rose of the Garden."
I stared at him in dumb agony.