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Updated: May 17, 2025
"I didn't write this. I never saw it before, or heard of it," he said simply. "I know that," said Grim. "But we thought you'd better look at it." Feisul laid the letter across his knee and paused to light a cigarette. I thought he was going to do what nine men out of ten in a tight place would certainly have done; but he blew out the match, and went on smoking.
"And you are quite sure that the Emir Feisul has escaped?" he asked. "Well, there are those whom the news will annoy, which is too bad, but can't be helped. For myself, I cannot say that I shall shed tears. Madame..." He looked straight at Mabel. "Major..." He met Grim's eyes and smiled.
"And so, Jimgrim, do the kites foregather? Or are we a forlorn hope? Do we go to bury Feisul or to crown him king?" "How much do you know?" Grim answered. "Hah! More than you, my friend! I come from Europe London Paris Rome. I stopped off in Deraa to listen a while, where the tide of rumour flows back and forth across the border.
So Jeremy did it; and that, I believe, accounts for a story that got in the newspapers about Feisul trying to spring a surprise on the French at the last minute. Some French officers in armored cars came over the brow of the hill in pursuit of us three cars, three officers, three machine-guns, and about a dozen men.
"I shall accompany the Emir Feisul and Colonel Lawrence to the front tonight, former plan having miscarried. When Syrian retreat begins look out for automobile containing Feisul and Lawrence, which may be recognized easily as it will also contain myself and another civilian in plain clothes.
He was balancing his chair on two legs, so I pushed him over backward, and before he could pick himself up again Grim resumed. "Feisul is in Damascus, and the Syrian Convention has proclaimed him king. That don't suit the French, who detest him. The feeling's mutual. When Feisul went to Paris for the Peace Conference, the French imagined he was easy.
They've given up believing politicians, and they're learning how to twist the politicians' tails. You'll find yourself in Baghdad within a year or two, with all Mesopotamia to make a garden of and none but Arabs to deal with. That's your field!" Feisul smiled with the air of a man who recognizes but is unconvinced. "There are always things that might have been," he answered.
He was back again in form electric and self-controlled. "Have you folk got the hang of this?" he asked. "Do you realize what it means if Feisul goes out and gets scuppered?" We thought we did, even if we didn't. I don't suppose anyone except the few who, like Grim, have made a life-study of the problem of Islam in all its bearings could quite have grasped it.
And presently he continued: "'We in this room are men of enlightenment. We are satisfied to leave past and future to speculations of idle dreamers. For us the present. So we attach no value to the fact that Feisul is descended in a straight line from the founder of the Moslem faith; for that is a superstition as foolish in its way as Christianity or any other creed.
The point is, do you want all your bravery and hard work for the Arab cause to go for nothing? Do you want the prospect of Arab independence to go up in smoke on a gas-swept battlefield?" "It would break my heart," said Feisul, "although one heart hardly matters." "It would break more hearts than yours," Grim retorted. "There are millions looking to you for leadership. Leave me out of it.
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