do. A karate blow.
_I_ can chop your windpipe with the side of my hand. Abe, if I do, only
immediate surgery could save your--"

Abe's fingers closed about the gun and Crawford, calling on his last
resources, lashed out. He could feel the cartilage collapse, a sound of
air, for a moment, almost like a shriek filled the room.

The gun was meaningless now. Homer Crawford, his face agonized, was on
his knees beside the other who was threshing on the floor. "Abe," he
groaned. "You made me."

Abe Baker's face was quickly going ashen in his impossible quest for
oxygen. For a last second there was a gleam in his eyes and his lips
moved. Crawford bent down. He wasn't sure, but he thought that somehow
the other found enough air to get out a last, "Crazy man."

When it was over, Homer Crawford stood again, and looked down at the
body, his face expressionless.

From behind him a voice said, "So I got here too late."

Crawford turned. It was Elmer Allen, gun in hand.

Homer Crawford said dully, "What are you doing here?"

Elmer looked at the body, then back at his chief. "Bey figured out what
must have happened at the mosque there in Timbuktu. We didn't know what
might be motivating Abe, but we got here as quick as we could."

"He was a commie," Crawford said dully. "Evidently, the Party decided I
stood in its way. Where are the others?"

"Scouring the town to find you."

Crawford said wearily, "Find the others and bring them here. We've got
to get rid of poor Abe, there, and then I've got something to tell you."

"Very well, chief," Elmer said, holstering his gun. "Oh, just one thing
before I go. You know that chap Rex Donaldson? Well, we had some
discussion after you left. This'll probably surprise you Homer,
but--hold onto your hat, as you Americans say--Donaldson thinks you
ought to _become_ El Hassan. And Bey, Kenny and I agree."

Crawford said, "We'll talk about it later, Elmer."

* * * * *

He knocked at her door and a moment later she came. She saw who it was,
opened for him and returned to the room beyond. She had obviously been
crying.

Homer Crawford said, but with no reproach in his voice, "You should have
helped me, to be consistent."

"I knew you'd win."

"Nevertheless, once you'd switched sides, you should have attempted to
help me. If you had, maybe Abe would still be alive."

She took a quick agonized breath, and sat down in one of the two chairs,
her hands cla