"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—