“And at that speech Yussuf Dakmar laughed with great delight.  ’Better late than never!’ said he.  ’Better to think of a wise precaution now than not at all!  But oh, ye are an empty-headed crew!’ he told them.  ’I pity the conspiracy that had no better planning than ye would make for it without my fore thought!  I thought of this long ago!  I sent a message to Damascus, begging that a date be set and just such a letter sent to us.  Feisul, I knew, would sign no such letter; but the paper he uses lies on an open desk, and there are men about him who have access to his seal.  And because my appeal was well-timed it met with approval.  A letter such as I asked for was written on Feisul’s paper, sealed with his seal, and sent!’

“‘But does it bear his signature?’ a man asked.

“‘How could it, since he never saw the letter?’ Yussuf Dakmar answered.

“‘Then few will pay heed to it,’ said the other.

“‘Perhaps if we were all such fools as you that might be so,’ Yussuf Dakmar retorted.  ’However, fortunately the rest of us have readier wits!  This letter is signed with a number, and the number is that of Feisul’s generation in descent from the Prophet Mohammed.  Let men be told that this is his secret signature, and when they see his seal beside it, will they not believe?  Every hour in Jerusalem, and in all the world, men believe things less credible than that!’

“But at that, sahib, another man asked him how they might know that the letter really came from Damascus.  ‘It well might be,’ said that one, ’a forgery contrived by Yussuf Dakmar himself, in which case though they might stir many Moslems into action by showing it, the men in Damascus would fail to follow up the massacre by striking at the French.  And if they do not strike at the French,’ said he, ’the French will not appeal to the British for aid; and so the British troops will be free to protect the Jews and butcher us, by which means we shall be worse off than before.’

“Whereat Yussuf Dakmar laughed again.  ’If ye will go to the Sikh hospital,’ said he, ’ye will find there the man who brought the letter.  He lies in a cot in the upper storey with a knife-wound between his shoulder-blades.  It was a mistaken accident unfortunate for him; the letter was intended for me, but I did not know that.  What does the life of one fool matter?  He gave out that Jews stabbed him, and it may be he believes that; yet I have the letter in my pocket here!’ And he touched with one hand the portion of his coat beneath which was the pocket that contained the letter.  I was watching, sahib, from where I lay hidden.