Sinaitic Bedouin loathes both) and obtaining news of
interest for both sides. It was a magnificently simple scheme; its sole
flaw was in failing to realise that some of us had played the Great Game
before. We used to time our emissaries to their return and cross-check
them where their wanderings intersected those of others--all were
supposed to be trackers and one or two knew something about it. Of
course they were searched and researched on crossing and returning to
our outpost line, for they could not be trusted to refuse messages to or
from the Turks. It was among this coterie that the brilliant idea
originated of shaving a messenger's head, writing a despatch on his
scalp, and then letting his hair grow before he started to deliver it. I
doubt if any of our folk were thorough enough for this, but we tested
for it occasionally, and an unpleasant job it was. Generally they would
incur suspicion by their too speedy return and the nonchalant way in
which they imparted tidings which would have driven them into ecstasies
of self-appreciation had they obtained such by legitimate methods. Then
a purposely false bit of information calculated to cause certain
definite action on the other side would usually betray them. Some
purists suggested a firing party as a fitting end for these gambits, but
that would have been a waste. Such men have their uses, until they know
they are suspected, as valuable channels of misinformation. No doubt the
enemy knew this too, and that is how an Intelligence Officer earns his
pay, by sifting grain from chaff as it comes in and sending out empty
husks and mouldy news.

But to return to Cairo. We netted a good deal of small fry, but only
landed one big fish during the time I was attached. He was a
Mesopotamian and a very respectable old gentleman, who followed the
calling of astrologer and peripatetic quack--a common combination and
admirably adapted for distributing propaganda. He came from Stamboul
through Athens with exemplary credentials, and might have got through to
India, which was the landfall he proposed to make, if his propagandist
energy had not led him to deviate on a small side-tour in Egypt. Here
we got on his track, and I boarded the Port Said express at short notice
while he and the "ferret" who had picked him up got into a third-class
compartment lower down. As the agent made no signal after the train had
pulled out, I knew our man had not got the bulk of his propaganda with
him,