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Then came my friend the train conductor and addressed me as Colonel, offering to carry out the bags. The moment he had grabbed his load and gone Grim broke silence: "Call her Colonel and me Grim. Don't forget how!" We became aware of faces under helmets peering through the window- officers of Feisul's army on the watch for unwelcome visitors.
Mabel objected. "Where's your proof that the French are jockeying this? Isn't that Feisul's seal?" "Yes, and it's his paper. But not his handwriting." "He might have dictated it, mightn't he?" "Never in those words. Feisul don't talk or write that way. The letter's a manifest forgery, as I'll prove by confronting Feisul with it.
Know ye that the tenth day from the sending of this letter, and at dawn, is the appointed time. Therefore let all make common cause for the favour of the Most High which awaits the Faithful. In the name of God and Mohammed the Prophet of God, on whom be blessings." There followed the Moslem date and the numerical signature over Feisul's indubitable seal.
"It means," he went on, with a hand on each knee and his strange eyes fixed steadily on Feisul's, "that the French are ready to attack you. It means they're sure of capturing your person and bent on seeing your finish. They'll give you a drumhead court martial and make excuses afterward." "Inshallah," Feisul answered, meaning "If Allah permits it." "That is exactly the right word!"
Fortune came to our rescue with one riderless horse, a splendid Arab gelding tied by the bridle to the wheel of a water-cart and left behind in the stampede. Jeremy appropriated it, riding Arab fashion with short stirrups, and I wouldn't have blamed Feisul's own brother for falsely identifying him at ten yards.
Feisul's army of fifty thousand men is as ready as it will ever be. There is no money in the Damascus treasury, and therefore every moment of delay is now a moment lost. The time has come for action!" Our three prisoners were listening to the recitation spellbound, and so were we all for that matter. The mere memory feat was amazing enough.
"The secret agents point out that although Feisul is against anything of the sort, he must be committed to it for his own sake. And they make great capital out of Feisul's promise that he will protect the Jews if recognized as king of independent Syria. Kill all the Jews beforehand, so there won't be any for him to protect when the time comes that's the argument." Mabel interrupted.
He had intended to lead a raid in person, swooping down the French flank to their rear; but the three staff traitors, Daulch, Hattin and Aubck, sent forward the previous evening to place the division and hold it ready, had simply tipped the French off to the whole plan and at the critical moment of Feisul's arrival on the scene had ordered the sauve-qui-peut.
For one thing, it's blue metallic ink. Feisul's private letters are all written with indelible black stuff made from pellets that I gave him; they're imported from the States." "But if Feisul wanted to prove an alibi, he naturally wouldn't use his special private ink," objected Mabel. "Then why his seal, and his special private notepaper? However, there's another point.
"The big effendi is a prizefighter, who has heard there is money to be made at Feisul's court. At least, that is what he says. Between you and me, I think he is a spy for the French Government, because when he engaged me in Jerusalem he gave me a fist-full of paper francs with which to send a telegram to Paris. What was in the telegram?
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