bdul Ali. This stranger from America--he glared balefully at
me--should be investigated thoroughly. As a man of vast
experience with the interests of El-Islam at heart, he offered
respectfully to examine this stranger thoroughly with the aid of
an interpreter. He confessed to certain suspicions; should they
prove unfounded, then it might be reasonable to credit the rest
of Abdul Ali's statements; if not, no. He was willing, if the
honourable mejlis saw fit, to take the stranger aside and put
many questions to him.

When he had finished you could actually physically feel the
suspicion directed at me. It was like a cold wind. Anazeh was
just as conscious of it, and muttered something about its being
time to go. Abdul Ali got up and asked indignantly why the
Ichwan from so far away should have such an important voice; he
himself stood there ready to answer all questions. Suliman ben
Saoud retorted sourly that he proposed to question the Damascene
in public after privately interrogating me.

"They shall not interfere with you! You are in my charge,"
Anazeh growled in my ear. "I will summon my men at the
first excuse."

"Jimgrim says, 'Be quiet!'" I answered.

There was another uproar. Ali Shah al Khassib openly took the
part of Abdul Ali. A dozen men demanded to know how much he had
been paid to do it. Finally, Suliman ben Saoud beckoned me. I
got up, and with Mahommed ben Hamza at my heels I followed him to
a narrow door in a side wall that opened on a stone stairway
leading to the ramparts. Anazeh' came too, growling like a
hungry bear, and after a couple of blood-curdling threats hurled
at Suliman ben Saoud's back he took up position in the open door,
facing the crowd, and dared any one to try to follow. He seemed
to have confidence in Mahommed ben Hamza's ability to protect me,
if necessary, on the roof.

The roof and ramparts appeared deserted. They were in the
ruinous state to which the Turks reduce everything by sheer
neglect, and in which Arabs, blaming the Turks, seemed quite
disposed to leave things. The Ichwan led the way to the
southwest corner, peering about him to make sure no guards were
in hiding, or asleep behind projecting buttresses. Overhead the
kites were wheeling against a pure blue sky. The Dead Sea lay
and smiled below us, with the gorgeous, treeless Judean Hills
beyond. Through the broken window of the hall came the clamour
of arguing men.

"O, Jimgrim!" grinned Ma