or me to see, and I awoke like a pelican at
the sight of fish.

"Yours for that letter," he said, shaking it again.

I nudged Suliman and nodded to him. He crossed the room, seized
the ten-piastre note, and brought it back to me. I stowed it
away under my shirt.

"Come, now give me the letter."

I took utterly no notice, so he turned his attention to Suliman
again, and resumed in Arabic.

"Feel in his pocket and find the letter."

"I'm afraid," the boy answered.

"Of what? Of him? I will protect you. Take the letter from
him."

Suliman chose to play the small boy, as he could very well indeed
when nothing could be gained by being devilish and ultra-grown-
up. He shook his head and grinned sheepishly.

"Has he any weapons?" was the next question.

"Ma indi khabar." [I don't know.]

Evidently assault and battery was to be the next item on the
program. He had not the eyes or the general air of a man who
will part with ten piastres for nothing. He called to Yussuf,
who came hurrying out of the scullery place. They held a
whispered conference, and Yussuf nodded; then he came over to
the front door and locked it, removing the key.

"Tell him to hand over that letter!" he ordered Suliman.

"Mafish mukhkh!" said the boy, tapping his forehead once more.

Suliman's notion was the right one after all--at any rate the
only one available. Old alligator rolled off his perch and
started for me. Yussuf timed his own assault to correspond.
They would have landed on me simultaneously, if Suliman had not
reminded me that madness is a safe passport nearly anywhere in
the East.

So I went stark, raving mad that minute. I once spent a night in
the room of an epileptic who had delirium tremens, and learned a
lot from him; some of it came to mind just when I needed it. If
ever a man got ten piastres' worth of unexpected side-show it was
that old Syrian with the alligator eyes. By the time I was quite
out of breath there wasn't a cushion or a coffee-pot fit for
business. Suliman was standing out of reach on the bench in a
corner yelling with laughter, while the two men struggled to get
through the scullery door, which was too narrow to admit them
both at once. I earned that ten piastres. By the same token
I did not let the kaffiyi fall off my head and betray my
western origin.

Unable to think up any more original motions, and having breath
for none, I sat on the floor and spat repeatedly, having seen