“That is as may be.  Let us talk business.  I reward my friends, but woe betide the fool who betrays my confidence!” said Yussuf Dakmar darkly.

“I see you are a man after my own heart,” answered Jeremy; “a thorough fellow who stops at nothing!  Good!  Allah must have brought us two together for an evil purpose, being doubtless weary of the League of Nations; Unbosom!  I am like a well, into which men drop things and never see them any more.”

“You are a fine rascal, I can see that clearly!  So you think that Allah is cooking up evil, do you?  Tee-hee!  That is an original idea, and there may be something in it.  Let us hope there is something in it for us two, at all events.  Now, as to that fellow Ramsden—­”

“Avoid him unless he is drunk,” advised Jeremy.  “The weight of his fist would drive a man like you like a nail into a tree.”

“Who fears such an ox?” the Syrian retorted.  “A fly can sting him; a little knife can bleed him; a red rag can enrage him; and the crows who devour that sort of meat won’t worry as to whether he was killed according to ritual!  He has money for Feisul, has he?  Well, never mind.  He has a letter as well, and that is what I want.  Will you get it for me?”

“Do you need it badly?”

“By Allah, I must have it!”

“By Allah, then I am in good luck, for that makes me indispensable, doesn’t it?  And an indispensable man can demand what he pleases!”

“Not at all,” Yussuf Dakmar answered, frowning.  “I have taken a fancy to you, or I would see you to the devil.  When we reach Haifa, ten or even twenty men will present themselves to do this business for me.  Or, if I choose, I can use that fellow Omar who is travelling with Ramsden; he would like to be my accomplice, but I don’t trust him very much.”

“In that you are perfectly right,” answered Jeremy.  “He is not at all the sort of man for you to trust.  It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he has warned Ramsden against you already!  Better beware of him!”

According to Jeremy’s account of the conversation afterward, it was not until that moment that he saw clearly how to prevent Yussuf Dakmar from calling in thugs to attack me either at Haifa or at some point between there and Damascus.  Until then he had been feeling his way along—­ “spieling,” as he calls it—­keeping his man interested while he made all ready for the next trick.

“To tell you the truth,” he went on, “Omar isn’t that fellow’s real name.  He is a sharp one, and he is after the letter every bit as much as you are.”

“How do you know that?”

“Wallah, how not? because he himself told me! just like you, he tried to get me into partnership.  He offered me a big reward, but he’s not like you, so I didn’t believe him; and he has no daughter; I’ve no use for a man who hasn’t a good-looking daughter.  What he’s afraid of is that someone else may get the letter first.  And he’s a desperate fellow.  He told me his intentions and whether you believe me or not, they’re worthy of a wolf!”