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 precious moustaches of yours in case any one's watching out from the house and might recognise you.
"Yours in haste, "A.H."
Every word that I wrote plunged me deeper in despair.
The thing was diabolically clever.
I realised how closely every detail of our life must be known. It was just such an epistle as I might have penned myself.
The acknowledgment that the Chinaman who had called that afternoon had endeavoured to "lure me away" discounted any good I might have done by leaving my "sign" of four books.
It had been a trap, and I had seen through it, that was what Poirot would think.
The time, too, was cleverly planned.
Poirot, on receiving the note, would have just time to rush off with his innocent-looking guide, and that he would do so, I knew.
My determination to make my way into the house would bring him post-haste.
He always displayed a ridiculous distrust of my capacities.
He would be convinced that I was running into danger without being equal to the situation, and would rush down to take command of the situation.
But there was nothing to be done.
I wrote as bidden.
My captor took the note from me, read it, then nodded his head approvingly and handed it to one of the silent attendants who disappeared with it behind one of the silken hangings on the wall which masked a doorway.
With a smile the man opposite to me picked up a cable form and wrote.
He handed it to me.
It read:
"Release the white bird with all despatch."
I gave a sigh of relief.
"You will send it at once?" I urged.
He smiled, and shook his head.
"When M. Hercule Poirot is in my hands it shall be sent. Not until then."
"But you promised -"
"If this device fails, I may have need of our white bird - to persuade you to further efforts."
I grew white with anger.
"My God!
If you -" He waved a long slim yellow hand.
"Be reassured, I do not think it will fail.
And the moment M. Poirot is in our hands, I will keep my oath."
"If you play me false -"
"I have sworn it by my honoured ancestors.
Have no fear.
Rest here awhile.
My servants will see to your needs whilst I am absent."
I was left alone in this strange underground nest of luxury.
The second Chinese attendant had reappeared.
One of them brought food and drink and offered it to me, but I waved them aside.
I was sick - sick - at heart - And then suddenly the master reappeared tall and stately in his silken robes.
He directed operations.
By his orders I was hustled back through the cellar and tunnel into the original house I had entered.
There they took me into a ground floor room.
The windows were shuttered, but one could see through the cracks into the street.
An old ragged man was shuffling along the opposite side of the road, and when I saw him make a sign to the window, I understood that he was one of the gang on watch.
"It is well," said my Chinese friend. "Hercule Poirot has fallen into the trap.
He approaches now - and alone except for the boy who guides him.