“Two good reasons:  for one, we’ll have Narayan Singh keep a careful eye on them, and they’ll keep it hidden as long as he snoops around; for another, they’ll be delighted not to have to let the French agent at Deraa into the secret, because of the higher price they hope to get by holding on.  They’ll smuggle it over the border and not open it until they feel safe.”

“Yes, but when they do look at it ...” said I.

“We’ll be over the border, and they can’t send telegrams to anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“An Arab government precaution.  If station agents all along the line were allowed to send telegrams every seditious upstart would take advantage of it and they’d have more trouble than they’ve got now.  But I warn you fellows, after Deraa—­somewhere between the border and Damascus—­there’ll be a fight.  The minute they discover that the letter is a fake they’ll come for the real one like cats after a canary.”

“Let ’em come!” smiled Jeremy, but Grim shook his head.  “I’ve been making that mistake too long,” he answered.  “No defensive tactics after we leave Deraa!  We’ll start the trouble ourselves.  You watch, after Deraa the train crew will play cards in the caboose and leave Allah to care for the passengers.”

“There’s only one thing troubles me,” said Jeremy.

“What’s that?”

“Narayan Singh got Yussuf Dakmar’s shirt night before last.  I’ve had it in for Yussuf ever since we Anzacs went hungry on account of him.  Anyone who scuppers him has got me to beat to him.  He’s my meat, and I give you all notice!”

It isn’t good to stand between an Anzac and the punishment he thinks an enemy deserves.

“All the same,” Grim answered, smiling, “I’ll bet you don’t get him, Jeremy.”

“I’ll bet you.  How much?”

“Mind you, when the game begins, you have a free hand,” Grim went on.

“All right,” answered Jeremy, who loves freak bets, ’’if I get him you quit the Army soon as this job’s done, and join up with Rammy and me:  if I don’t I’ll stay and help you on the next job.”

“That’s a bet,” said Grim promptly.

So Jeremy went forward to play at being traitor, while Narayan Singh and I kept Mabel company.  She fired questions at us right and left for twenty minutes, which we had to answer in detail instead of straining our cars to catch what Grim and Jeremy might be saying to Yussuf Dakmar in the next compartment.

Whatever they did say, they managed to prolong the interview until within ten minutes of Deraa, when the Syrian returned to his companions smiling smugly and Narayan Singh strode after him, to stand in the corridor and by ostentatiously watching them prevent their examining the letter.

Grim and Jeremy, all grins, joined us at once in Mabel’s compartment.