"I'll have nothing to do with it!"
Noureddin Ali was pained and upset. Grim had pricked his
conceit--had sent thrust home where he kept his susceptibilities.
He blinked, peered this and that way, exchanged glances with the
alligator person, and then tucked his legs up under him.
"In me you see a doer!" he announced. He looked the part. His
lean, pointed nose and beady little eyes were of the interfering,
meddling type. You could not imagine him, like the yellow-eyed
ruminant next to him, sitting and waiting ruthlessly for things
to happen. Noureddin Ali looked more likely to go out and
be ruthless.
"So they all say!" Grim retorted.
"Some one should forewarn them in Damascus what a deed will occur
here presently. Above all, word should reach Mustapha Kemal, in
Anatolia, as soon as possible, so that he may be ready to act."
"All day long," said Grim, "I have wandered about Jerusalem,
listening to this and that rumour of something that may happen.
But I have not found one man who can tell me a fact."
"That is because you did not meet me. I am--hee-hee! I am the
father of facts. You say you leave for Damascus at dawn? You
are positive? I could tell you facts that would put a sudden end
to my career if they were spread about Jerusalem!"
"That is the usual boast of men who desire credit in the eyes of
the Nationalist Party," Grim retorted.
"I see you are skeptical. That is a wise man's attitude, but I
must be cautious, for my life is at stake. Now--how do you
propose to leave Jerusalem? There is no train for Damascus at
dawn tomorrow."
"I am on a diplomatic mission," answered Grim. "The
Administration have placed a car at my disposal to take me as far
as the border."
"Ah! And tonight? Where will you be tonight?"
"Why?"
"Because I propose to make a disclosure. And--ah--hee-hee!--you
would like to live, I take it, and not be sent back to Damascus
in a coffin? I have--ah--some assistants who--hee-hee!--would
watch your movements. If you were to betray me afterwards to the
Administration, there would remain at least--the satisfaction--
of--you understand me?--the certainty that you would suffer
for it!"
Grim laughed dryly.
"I shall be at the hotel," he answered. "In bed. Asleep. The
car comes before dawn."
"That is sufficient. I shall know how to take essential
precautions. Now--you think I am a man of words, not deeds? You
were near the Jaffa Gate this morning, for I saw you there. You
saw a man killed--a policeman, name Bedreddin. That was an
unwise underling, who stumbled by accident on a clue to what I
shall tell you presently. He had the impudence to try to
blackmail me--me, of all people! You saw him killed. But did
you see who killed him? I--I killed him, with this right hand!
You do not believe? You think, perhaps, I lack the strength for
such a blow? Look here, where the force of it broke my skin on
the handle of the knife! Now, am I a man of words, not deeds?"
"You want me to report to Mustapha Kemal that all the
accomplishment in Jerusalem amounts to one policeman killed?"
"No, no! You mistake my meaning. My point is that having proved
to you I am a ruthless man of action, I am entitled to be
believed when I tell you what next I intend to do."
"Well--I listen."
"There is going to be--hee-hee!--an explosion!"
"Where? When? Of what?"
"In Jerusalem, within a day or two, and of what? Why, of high
explosive, what else?"
"Much good an explosion in this city will do Mustapha Kemal!"
Grim grumbled. "You may kill a few beggars and break some
windows. The British will double the guards afterward at all the
city gates, and that will be the end of it; except that some of
you, who perhaps may escape being thrown into jail, will apply to
Mustapha Kemal for high commissions in his army on the strength
of it! Great doings! Mustapha Kemal will have no bastinadoed."
"Hee-hee! You are going to be surprised. What would you say to
an explosion, for instance, that destroyed the Dome of the Rock?"
"That might accomplish results."
"Hee-hee! You admit it! An explosion to be blamed on the
Zionists, who must afterward be protected by the British from the
mob! Would that not set India on fire?"
"It might help. But who is to do it?"
"You see the doer before you! I will do it."
"If I thought such a thing was really going to take place--"
"You would think that news worth carrying, eh? You would hurry
to Damascus, wouldn't you? And let me assure you, my dear
captain, speed is essential. There are reasons why the explosion
has not yet occurred--reasons of detail and difficulties to be
overcome. But now there is little further prospect of delay.
Everything is nearly ready. The explosive is not yet in place,
but is at hand. The authorities suspect nothing. There remains
only a little excavation work, and then--hee-hee!--nothing to do
but choose the hour when hundreds are in the mosque. Houp-la!
Up she goes. Does not the idea appeal to you?"
"Sensational--very," Grim admitted.
"Ah! But the utmost must be made of the sensation. Men must be
ready in Damascus to stir public feeling on the strength of it.
Word must go to Mustapha Kemal to strike hard while the iron is
hot. There must be reprisals everywhere. Blood must flow.
"The Europeans, French as well as British, must be goaded into
making rash mistakes that will further inflame the populace. It
must be shouted from the house-tops that the Jews have blown up a
Moslem sacred place, and that the British are protecting them.
There must be a true jihad* proclaimed against all non-Moslems
almost simultaneously everywhere. Do you understand now how
swiftly you must travel to Damascus?" [*Holy war.]
Grim nodded. "Yet these foreigners are cunning," he said
doubtfully. "Are you sure your plan is not suspected?"
"Quite sure. There was one man--a cursed interfering jackanapes
of an American, whom they all call Jimgrim, of whom I was afraid.
He is clever. He goes snooping here and there, and knows how to
disguise himself. But he fell downstairs this morning and broke
his thigh in two places. If anything could make me religious,
that would! If I were not a nationalist, I would say 'Glory
to God, and blessed be His Prophet, who has smitten him whom
we feared!"'
"That broken leg might be a trick to put you off your guard,"
Grim suggested pleasantly.
"No. I made secret enquiries. He is in great pain. He may lose
the leg. The doctor who has charge of the case is a Major
Templeton, an irritable person and, like most of the English, too
big a fool to deceive anybody. No, luckily for Mister Jimgrim it
is not a trick. Otherwise he would have shared the fate today of
Bedreddin Shah the constable. The trap was all ready for him.
With the inquisitive and really clever out of the way there is
nothing to be feared. Now--pardon me, Captain Ali Mirza, but
that letter you received just now; would you like to show it
to me?"
"Why?" Grim demanded, frowning, and bridling all over.
"Hee-hee! For the sake of reciprocity. I have told you my
secret. If it were not that I am more than usually circumspect,
and accustomed to protect myself, one might say that my life is
now in your hands, captain. Besides--hee-hee!--I might add that
Jerusalem is my particular domain. I would have no difficulty in
seeing that letter in any case. But there should be no need for
--hee-hee!--shall we call them measures?--between friends."
"I see you are a man of resource," said Grim.
"Of great resource, with picked lieutenants. May I see the
letter now?"
Grim produced it. Noureddin Ali took it between spidery fingers
and examined it like a schoolmaster conning a boy's composition.
But the expression of his face changed as he took in the
contents, holding the paper so that alligator-eyes could read
it, too.
"Who wrote this?" he asked.
"Can't you read the signature? Enver Eyub."
"Who is he?"
"One of Mustapha Kemal's staff."
"So. 'In pursuing your mission you will also take steps to
ascertain whether or not Noureddin Ali Bey is a person worthy of
confidence.' Aha! That is excellent! So Mustapha Kemal Pasha
has heard of me?"
Grim nodded.
"And the rest of your mission?"
"Is confidential."
"And are you satisfied that I am to be trusted?"
"I think you mean business."
"Then you should tell me what is the nature of your secret
mission to Jerusalem. Possibly I can give you needed information.
If you have obtained information of value, you should confide in
me. I can be most useful when I know most."
Grim frowned. He began to look uneasy. And the more he did that,
the more delight Noureddin Ali seemed to take in questioning him,
but be pleaded his own case, too.
"The trouble with the Nationalist movement," he insisted, "is
lack of unity. There is no mutual confidence--consequently no
combination. There are too many intellects working at cross
purposes. You should tell me what is being done, so that I may
fit in my plans accordingly. When the Dome of the Rock has been
blown up there will be ample opportunity for putting into
execution a combined plan. You must confide in me."
"Suppose I get rid of that messenger and the boy first,"
Grim suggested.
Grim felt in his pocket and produced a purse full of bank notes.
But they were all big ones.
"Never mind, I have change," said Noureddin Ali. "How much will
you give him?"
"No," said Grim. "The boy can take him to the hotel. Let him
wait for me there. He has no further business here. He should
return to Damascus. He had better travel with me in the car
tomorrow morning. Take him to the hotel, and wait for me there,
you," he added in Arabic to Suliman.
Yussuf came and opened the door. Suliman took my hand and led me
out. The door slammed shut behind me, and a great Sikh, leaning
on his rifle at a corner thirty feet away, came to life just
sufficiently to follow me up-street with curious brown eyes.
"That is Narayan Singh," announced Suliman when we had passed
him. "He is Jimgrim's friend."
There was another Sikh just in sight of him at the next corner,
and another beyond him again, all looking rather bored but
awfully capable. None except the first one took the slightest
notice of us.
It was some consolation to know that "Jimgrim's friend" was on
guard outside Yussuf's. I had no means of knowing what weapons
Grim carried, if any, but was positive of one thing: if either
Noureddin Ali or the man with alligator eyes should get an
inkling of his real identity his life would not be worth ten
minutes' purchase. Including Yussuf, who would likely do as he
was told, there would be three to one between those silent walls,
and it seemed to me that Narayan Singh might as well be three
miles away as thirty feet. However, there was nothing I could do
about it.
It was late afternoon already, and the crowd was swarming all one
way, the women carrying the baskets and the men lording it near
enough to keep an eye on them. If Suliman and I were followed,
whoever had that job had his work cut out, for we were swallowed
up in a noisy stream of home-going villagers, whose baskets and
other burdens made an effectual screen behind us as well as
in front.
The hotel stands close by the Jaffa Gate, and there the crowd was
densest, for the outgoing swarm was met by another tide, of city-
folk returning. In the mouth of the hotel arcade stood an
officer whom I knew well enough by sight--Colonel Goodenough,
commander of the Sikhs, a quiet, gray little man with a monocle,
and that air of knowing his own mind that is the real key to
control of Indian troops. Up a side-street there were a dozen
troop-horses standing, and a British subaltern was making himself
as inconspicuous as he could in the doorway of a store. It did
not need much discernment to judge that those in authority were
ready to deal swiftly with any kind of trouble.
But the only glimpse I had of any mob-spirit stirring was when
three obvious Zionist Jews were rather roughly hustled by some
Hebron men, who pride themselves on their willingness to brawl
with any one. Two Sikhs interfered at once, and Goodenough, who
was watching, never batted an eyelash.
I was tired, wanted a whiskey and soda and a bath more than
anything else I could imagine at the moment. I was eager to get
to my room in the hotel. Suliman, being not much more than a
baby after all, wanted to go to sleep. We went past Goodenough,
who eyed me sharply but took no further notice, and we entered
the hotel door. But there we were met by Cerberus in the shape
of an Arab porter, who cursed our religion and ordered us out
again, threatening violence if we did not make haste.
Suliman argued with him in vain, and even whimpered. There was
nothing for it but to return to the arcade, where I sat down on a
step, from which a native policeman drove me away officiously. I
had about made up my mind to go and speak to Goodenough in
English, when Grim appeared. Not even Goodenough recognized him,
his Syrian stride was so well acted. He saluted, and the salute
was returned punctiliously but with that reserve toward a
foreigner that the Englishman puts on unconsciously. When Grim
spoke to him in Arabic Goodenough answered in the same language.
I did not hear what was said at first, but as I drew closer I
heard the sequel, for Grim changed suddenly to English.
"If you can't recognize me through that magnifying-glass of
yours, colonel, I must be one leopard who can really change his
spots. I'm Grim. Don't change your expression. Quick: look
around and tell me if I'm followed."
"Hard to say. Such a crowd here. There's a Syrian over the way
with a bulbous nose, who came along after you; he's leaning with
his back to the wall now, watching us."
"He's the boy."
"I see Narayan Singh has left his post. Did you give
him orders?"
"Yes. Told him to follow any one who followed me. I don't want
that fellow interfered with. He may stay there, or more likely
he'll call others to take his place; they'll watch all night, if
they're allowed to; let them. Wish you'd give orders they're to
be left alone. Then, please let Narayan Singh go off duty and
get some sleep; I'm going to want him all day tomorrow."
"All right, Grim; anything else?"
"First opportunity, I wish you'd come to Davey's room upstairs.
Now--long distance stuff again, sir--if any Syrian asks you about
me, you might say I was making sure the car would come for me
at dawn."
They exchanged salutes again as one suspicious alien to another.
Grim looked suitably surprised at sight of me, and led me and
Suliman back to the hotel, where Suliman wanted him to wreak dire
vengeance on the porter; he grew sulky when he discovered that
his influence with Grim was not sufficient for the purpose, but
forgot it, small boy fashion, ten minutes later, when he fell
asleep on the floor in a corner of Davey's room.
Davey did not look exactly pleased to see us, although he seemed
to like Grim personally, and was the first that day to see
through Grim's disguise at the first glance. Mrs. Davey, on the
other hand, was radiant with smiles--thrilled at the prospect of
learning secrets. She produced drinks and pushed the armchairs
up. When she learned who I was, her husband could hardly keep
her from putting on a costume too, to make a party of it.
Davey was reserved. He asked no questions. A gray-headed, gray-
eyed, stocky, sturdy-looking man, who had made impossibilities
come true on three continents, he waited for trouble to come to
him instead of seeking it. There was silence for several minutes
over the cigars and whiskey before Grim opened fire at last. He
talked straight out in front of Mrs. Davey, for she had mothered
Cosmopolitan Oil men in a hundred out-of-the-way places. She
knew more sacred secrets than the Sphinx.
"Any news about your oil concessions, Davey?"
"No. Not a word. We've got every prospect in the country marked
out. Nothing to do now but wait for the mandate, while the
Zionists go behind our backs to the Foreign Office and scheme for
the concessions. It's my belief the British mean to favor the
Zionists and put us in the ditch. The fact that we were first on
the ground, and lodged our applications with the Turks before the
war seems to make no difference in their lives."
"Well, old man, I've arranged for you to change your policy,"
said Grim.
"What in thunder do you mean?"
Mrs. Davey giggled with delight, but her husband
frowned ominously.
"I'm supposed to be Staff-Captain Ali Mirza of the
Shereefian army."
"I've heard of him. He's a bad one, Jim. He is one of those
Syrian Arabs who will accept any one's money, but who never stays
bought. Why masquerade as a scoundrel?"
"I was in a place just now with a bunch of murderers, who'd have
made short work of me if I couldn't give them a sound reason for
being in Jerusalem just now."
"Why not have 'em all arrested?"
"For the same reason, Davey, that your Oil Company isn't piping
ten thousand barrels a day from Jericho. The time is not yet.
Things haven't reached that stage. I told them your Oil Company
gave up hope long ago of getting a concession from the British,
and has decided to finance Mustapha Kemal."
Davey flung his cigar out of the window, and laid both hands on
his knees. His face was a picture of baffled indignation. But
his wife laughed.
"They were tickled to death," Grim continued. "I'm supposed to
be going to Damascus tomorrow morning with a hundred thousand
dollars in U.S. gold, obtained from you in ten small bags. We've
got to find some bags and pack them full of something heavy."
"I'll have nothing to do with it!" Davey exploded at last. "It's
a damned outrage! Why--this tale will be all over the place.
The Jews will get hold of it, and make complaints in London.
Next you know, the U.S. State Department will be raising blue
hell. Questions asked in Congress. Headlines in all the papers!
What do you suppose our people will think of me?"
"Refer them to your wife, Davey. She's got you out of much
worse messes."
"I'll drive the car straight up to OETA and lodge my protest
against this in less than fifteen minutes!"
"No need; Davey, old man. Goodenough will be in here presently.
Kick to him."
Mrs. Davey went into the next room and returned with a roll of
coarse cotton cloth.
"I've no bags, Jim, but if this stuff will do I can sew some
right now."
"Good enough, Emily, go to it."
"D'you want to lose me my job?" demanded Davey. But his wife
took up the scissors and smiled back at him.
"You know better than that. We've trusted Jim before."
"Listen, Davey; this thing's serious," said Grim.
"I know it is! So'm I! Nothing doing!"
"You're on the inside of an official secret."
"Curse all official secrets! My business is oil!"
"There'll be no oil in this man's land for any one for fifty
years if you won't play. There'll be a jihad instead. They're
planning to blow up the Dome of the Rock."
"Jee-rusalem!"
"Straight goods, Davey. Two tons of TNT stolen, and our friend
Scharnhoff, the Austrian, hunting for the Tomb of the Kings--
digging for it day and night--conspirators waiting to run in the
explosive as soon as the tunnel is complete."
"Why not arrest 'em at once?"
"We want to catch the principals red-handed, explosive and all.
We don't know where the explosive is yet. Bag the lot, and kill
the story. Otherwise, d'you see what it means, if the news leaks
out? They'll blame the attempt on the Jews. And the minute the
British protect the Jews there'll be all Moslem Asia on fire.
Get me?"
"Get you? Yes, I get you. I'll get hell from the home office,
though, for meddling in politics."
Goodenough came in then, rather a different man from the stern
little martinet who had stood in the throat of the arcade. He
was all smiles.
"Evening, Mrs. Davey," he said genially. "That one man went
away, Grim, and three took his place. They shan't be disturbed.
Narayan Singh has gone off duty. Now, Mrs. Davey, I've been told
that Americans all went dry, on account of a new religion called
the Volstead Act. D'you mean to say you'd tempt a thirsty
soldier with a dry martini?"