"Did he steal your watch?" asked Ahmed. They are as jealous as
children, those Arabs.
There was a second execution while I walked back through the
city. A wide-eyed, panic-stricken poor devil with slobber on his
jaws came tearing down-street with a mob at his heels. We
stepped into an alley to let the race go by, but he doubled down
the alley opposite. Before he had run twenty yards along it some
one hit the back of his head with a piece of rock. A second
later they had pounced on him, and in less than a minute after
that he was kicking in the noose of a hide rope slung over a
house-beam. I don't know what they hanged him for. No one
apparently knew. But they used his carcase for a target and shot
it almost to pieces.
I kept on looking for Grim, although the task seemed hopeless.
Of course, I could not give a hint of my real purpose. But as
Grim knew that the talk about a school-teacher was my passport
to the place, it seemed possible that he might use that as an
excuse for getting in touch with me. So I told Ahmed to show
me the schools.
They weren't worth looking at--mere tumble-down sheds in which
Moslem boys were taught to say the Koran by heart. The places
where Christian missionaries once had been were all turned into
stores, and even into stables for the horses of the notables.
So I returned to ben Nazir's house, and found old Sheikh Anazeh
sitting outside on the step, as motionless as a tobacco-store
Indian but twice as picturesque. He still had his own rifle over
his knees, and the plundered one slung over his shoulder by a
strap; he never stirred abroad unarmed.
I asked him what the conference of notables was going to be
about, and he told me to mind my own business. That struck me as
an excellent idea, so, not having slept at all the previous
night, I went upstairs and lay on the bed. There was no lock on
the door, so I set the chair against it.
Ben Nazir was a man who had traveled a great deal, and picked up
western notions of hospitality to add to the inborn eastern sense
of sacredness in the relation between host and guest. It seems
that an hour or two later he came to take me down to a Gargantuan
meal, but, feeling the chair against the door, and hearing
snores, he decided it was better manners to let me lie in peace.
So I did not wake up again until after midnight. The moonlight
was streaming through a little high-perched window, and fell on
the white-robed, ghostly-looking figure of a man, who sat with
crossed legs on the end of the bed. I thought I was dead and
in hell.
That is no picturesque exaggeration about a man's hair standing
when he is terrified. It really does. I would have yelled
aloud, if the breath would have come, but there is a trick of
sudden fear that seems to grip your lungs and hold them impotent.
The thing on the end of the bed had no eye-brows. It grinned as
if it knew all about evil, and were hungry, and living men were
its food.
I don't know how long I stared at the thing, but it seemed
like a week. At last it spoke, and I burst into a sweat with
the reaction.
"Good job you don't know how to fasten a door with a chair. I'll
have to show you that trick, or you'll be dying before your time.
Sh-h-h! Don't make a noise!"
I sat up and looked more closely at him. It was the Ichwan of
the afternoon--Sheikh Suliman ben Saoud. And he was speaking
unmistakable American. I began again to believe I was dreaming.
He chuckled quietly and lit a cigarette.
"Aren't you wise to me yet?"
"Grim?"
"Who else?"
"But what's happened to your face? You're all one-sided."
"Oh, that's easy. I just take out my false teeth. The rest is
done with a razor and some brown stain. I thought you were going
to spot me when you first came. Did you? I didn't think so.
Did you act as well as all that?"
"No. Looked all over town for you afterward."
"Uh-huh. I thought that was too natural to be acting. Pick up
any news in town?"
"Saw a hanging, and met a man who calls himself Mahommed ben
Hamza. He's waiting at the house of Abu Shamah."
"Any men with him?"
"Nine."
"Three more than he promised. Ben Hamza is the most honest thief
and dependable liar in Palestine--a cheerful murderer who sticks
closer than a brother. I saved him once from being hung, because
he smiles so nicely. Any more news?"
"I expect none that you don't know. There's a sheikh named Abdul
Ali from Damascus, preaching a raid into Palestine."
Grim nodded.
"I'm here to bag that bird."
"Where do I come in?" I asked.
"You are the plausible excuse, that's all. Thanks to you old
Anazeh got into El-Kerak with twenty men. Two might not have
been enough, even with ben Hamza and his nine."
"Then our host ben Nazir is in on your game?"
"Not he! Up at headquarters in Jerusalem we knew all about this
coming conference. These folk are ready to explode. The only
way to stop it is to pull the plug--The plug is Abdul Ali. We
knew we could count on old Anazeh. But the puzzle was how to get
him and his men into El-Kerak. When you told me ben Nazir had
invited you, I saw the way to do it. There wasn't anybody else
except Anazeh that ben Nazir could have sent to fetch you, and
the old boy is a dependable friend of ours."
"That did not stop him from raiding two villages on the British
side of the Dead Sea," I answered.
"Did he?"
"Sure. I had part of a raided sheep for breakfast."
"Um-m-m! Well of all the--damn his impudence! The shrewd old
devil must have figured that we can't get after him for it,
seeing how he's playing our game. Bloody old horse-thief! Well,
he gets away with it, this time. You'll have to be mighty
careful not to seem to recognize me. One slip and we're done
for. You're safe enough. If they once get wise to me they'll
pull me in pieces between four horses."
"What's your plan?"
"It's vague yet. Got to be an opportunist. I'm supposed to
be a member of the ben Saoud family, recruiting members for
the new sect--biggest thing in Arabia. I'm invited to the
conference on the strength of my supposed connection with the
big Ichwan movement."
"D'you propose to murder this Abdul Ali person, then, or have him
murdered?" I asked.
"Uh-uh! Murder's out of my line. Besides, that'ud do no good.
Worse than useless. They'd all cut loose. Abdul Ali has got
them together. What with bribes and a lot of promises he has
them keen on this raid. If he were killed they'd say one of our
spies did it. They'd add vengeance to their other motives, which
at present are mainly a desire for loot. No, no. Abdul Ali has
got to disappear. Then they'll believe he has betrayed them.
Then, instead of raiding Palestine they'll confiscate his
property and curse his ancestors. D'you see the point?"
"More or less. But what good can I do?"
"Do you mind if I use you?"
I laughed. "That's a hell of a silly question. Any use my
minding? You've already used me. You will do it again without
consulting me. I like it, as it happens. But a fat lot you
care whether I like it or not. Isn't it a bit late in the day
to ask permission?"
"Oh, well. You know the hangmen always used to beg the victim's
pardon. Will you obey orders?"
"Yes. But it might be easier if I know what I'm doing."
"As soon as I know I'll explain," he answered. "Where you can
fit into the puzzle at the moment is by rooting for the school
idea. The worst robber chieftain from the farthest cluster of
huts he calls his home town would like to see an American school
here in El-Kerak. If there were one he'd send his sons to it."
"Okay. I'll root like a dog for a buried bone."
"Go to it. That gives you the right to ask questions. That will
oblige ben Nazir to introduce you to any one you want to
interview. That will explain without any further argument
whatever weakness you seem to have for talking to men in the
street like Mahommed ben Hamza. It would even explain away any
politeness that I might show you in my capacity of Ichwan. For
safety's sake, and to create an impression, I take the line of
being rude to every one; but I might reasonably toss a few
crumbs of condescension to an altruist from foreign parts. At
any rate, I'll have to take that chance. D'you get me?"
"You mean, you'll use me as intermediary? Messages to and from
ben Hamza and that sort of thing?"
"That's the idea, but there's more to it. Did you bring that
Bible along? Are you superstitious? Any notions like Long John
Silver's about its being bad luck to spoil a Bible? All right.
Keep it in your pocket to make notes in. If you can't get the
whole book to me, tear a page out and send that, or give it to
me, with the message spelled in dots under the words. Make the
dots faint, I've good eyes."
"What sort of notes do you want from me?"
"You mustn't mistake me for the prophet Ezekiel," he answered,
grinning. "'Thus saith the Lord' is all right when you know what
you're talking about. All I know for certain is that I've got
to bag Abdul Ali. If you get information that looks important
to you, get it to me in the way I've told you, that's all.
Don't be caught talking to me. Don't look friendly. Don't
seem interested."
"What else?"
"If you can, keep old Anazeh sober."
"Oh!"