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"The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on"; the old tentmaker Omar knew the truth of it. You could almost hear the balance-wheel of Progress click as the door opened before Grim had finished speaking, and a staff officer appeared to invite him to be present at Feisul's conference.
Ever since then the French have declared he's a hypocrite; and because he won't yield his rights they've been busy inventing wrongs of their own and insisting on immediate adjustment. The French haven't left one stone unturned that could irritate Feisul into making a false move." "To hell with them!" suggested Jeremy, reaching for more tea. "But Feisul's not easy to irritate," Grim went on.
Somebody on Feisul's staff was asked for an opinion on the letter before it went. My husband's Arab orderly told me only yesterday that a sling I made for a man in the hospital was magnifique." The objection was well enough taken, because it was the sort the forger of the letter would be likely to raise if brought to book. But Grim's argument was not exhausted. "There are other points, Mabel.
Grim figured a moment and worked out the corresponding date according to our western calendar. "Leaves six days," he said pleasantly. "It means the French intend to attack Damascus seven days from now." "Let 'em!" Jeremy exploded. "Feisul'll give 'em ! All they've got are Algerians." "The French have poison gas," Grim answered dourly. "Feisul's men have no masks." "Get 'em some!"
Well, why not stir up revolution here in Palestine in Feisul's name? Why not get the malcontents to murder Jews wholesale, with propaganda blowing full blast to make it look as if Feisul's hand is directing it all? It's as simple as falling off a log.
"As it is, I cannot desert the army." "We'll save what we can of the army," Grim answered. "Your Syrians will save their own skins; it's only the Arabs we've got to look out for a line of retreat for the Arab regiments, and another for you. It's not too late, and you know I'm right! Come on; let's get busy and do it!" Feisul's smile was all affection and approval, but he shook his head.
India, Persia, Mesopotamia, Egypt, all Northern Africa there's almost no limit to what depends on Feisul's safety; and the French can't or won't understand that." There came the sound of heavy ammunition boots outside on the stone step, followed by a cough that I believe I could recognize among a thousand.
He did jump down from the gallery and surprise a meeting summoned by Yussuf Dakmar. And it is true that Yussuf Dakmar's purpose is to bring about a massacre of Jews, which is to be simultaneous with an attack by Feisul's forces on the French in Syria. But we three men are not in favour of it. We have had no part in the preparations, although we know all details.
"He was brought up in the desert among Bedouins, and has their stoical endurance with a sort of religious patience added. Gets that maybe from being a descendant of the Prophet." "Awful sort to have to fight, that kind are," said Jeremy. "They wear you down!" "So the French decided some time ago to persuade Feisul's intimates to make a bad break which he couldn't repudiate."
They know they've given him and the Arabs a raw deal; and they seem to think the simplest way out is to blacken Feisul's character and ditch him. If the French once catch him in Damascus he's done for and the Arab cause is lost." "Why lost?" demanded Jeremy. "There are plenty more Arabs." "But only one Feisul. He's the only man who can unite them all." "I know a chance for him," said Jeremy.
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