"And you didn't protest? What's the world coming to? I see
you've lost a little skin yourself. I hope you've not been
breaking bounds and fighting?"
"He is a most impertinent man!" said Abdul Ali, trying to take
his cue, and glowering at me. "He posed as a person interested
in a school for El-Kerak, and afterward helped capture me by
a trick!"
The Administrator frowned. It seemed I was going to be made the
scape-goat. I did not care. I would not have taken a year of
Sir Louis' pay for those two days and nights. When he spoke
again I expected something drastic addressed to me, but I
was wrong.
"An official apology is due to you, Sheikh Abdul Ali. Permit me
to offer it, together with my profound regret for any slight
personal inconvenience to which you may have been subjected in
course of this--ah--entirely unauthorized piece of--ah--
brigandage. I notice you have been bruised, too. You shall have
the best medical attention at our disposal."
"That is not enough!" sneered Abdul Ali, throwing quite
an attitude.
"I know it isn't. I was coming to that. An apology is also due
to the French--our friends the French. I shall put it in
writing, and ask you to convey it to Beirut to the French High
Commissioner, with my compliments. I would send you by train,
but you might be--ah--delayed at Damascus in that case. Perhaps
Emir Feisal might detain you. There will be a boat going from
Jaffa in two days' time. Two days will give you a chance to
recover from the outrageous experience before we escort you to
the coast. A first-class passage will be reserved for you by
wire, and you will be put on board with every possible courtesy.
You might ask the French High Commissioner to let me know if
there is anything further he would like us to do about it. Now,
I'll ring for a clerk to take you to the medical officer--under
escort, so that you mayn't be subjected to further outrage or
indignity. Good evening!"
"Anything more for me?" asked Grim, as soon as Abdul Ali had been
led away.
"Not tonight, Grim. Come and see me in the morning." Grim
saluted. The Administrator looked at me--smiled mischievously.
"Have a good time?" he asked. "Don't neglect those scratches.
Good evening!"
No more. Not another word. He never did say another word to me
about it, although I met him afterwards a score of times. You
couldn't help but admire and like him.
Grim led the way up the tower stairs again, and we took a last
look at El-Kerak. The moon was beginning to rise above the rim
of the Moab Hills. The land beyond the Dead Sea was wrapped in
utter silence. Over to the south-east you could make out one dot
of yellow light, to prove that men lived and moved and had their
being in that stillness. Otherwise, you couldn't believe it was
real country. It looked like a vision of the home of dreams.
"Got anything to do tonight?" asked Grim. "Can you stay awake?
I know where some Jews are going to play Beethoven in an upper
room in the ancient city. Care to come?"