“Not so,” Grim answered.  “If you don’t like the plan, I’ll trust you to fall out and keep the secret.”

“Oh, in that case,” answered Hadad, hesitating.  “Since you put it that way... well, it is lose all or perhaps win something—­half-measures are no good—­the alternative is ruin of the Arab cause—­it is a forlorn hope—­well, one throw of the dice, eh?—­and all our fortunes on the table!—­one little mistake and helas—­finish!  Never mind.  Yes, I will play too.  I will play this to the end with you.”

“So we’re all set,” remarked Grim with a sigh of relief.  Instantly he threw his shoulders back and began to set his pieces for the game.  And you know, there’s a world of difference between the captain of a side who doesn’t worry until the game begins and Grim’s sort, who do their worrying beforehand and then play, and make the whole side play for every ounce that’s in them.

“Mabel, you’re Lawrence.  Keep silent, be shy, avoid encounters—­act like a man who’s not supposed to be here, but who came to help Feisul contrary to express commands laid on him by the Foreign Office.  Get that?  Lawrence is a shy man, anyway—­hates publicity, rank, anything that calls attention to himself.  The more shy you are, the easier you’ll get away with it.  Feisul must help pretend you’re Lawrence.  The presence of Lawrence would add to his prestige incalculably, and I think he’ll see that, but if not, never mind, we’ll manage.  Any questions?  Quick!”

You can’t ask questions when you’re given that sort of opportunity.  The right ones don’t occur to you and the others seem absurd.  Grim knew that, of course, but when you’re dealing with a woman there’s just one chance in a hundred that she may think of something vital that hasn’t occurred to anybody else.  Most women aren’t practical; but it’s the impractical things that happen.

“Suppose we’re captured by the French?” she suggested.  “That’s what’s going to happen,” he answered.  “When they’ve got you, then you’re Mrs. Mabel Ticknor, who never saw Lawrence and wouldn’t recognize him if you did.”

“They’ll ask why I’m wearing man’s clothes, and masquerading as an Arab.”

“Well, you’re a woman, aren’t you?  You answer with another question—­ ask them just how safe a woman would be!  They may claim that their Algerians are baby-lambs, but they can’t blame you for not believing it!  Anything else?”

She shook her head, and he turned on Hadad.

“Hadad, lose no opportunity of whispering that Lawrence is with Feisul.  Add that Lawrence doesn’t want his presence known.  Hunt out two or three loyal Arabs on the staff and tell them the plan is to kidnap Feisul and carry him to safety across the border; but don’t do it too soon; wait until the debacle begins, and then persuade a few of them—­ old Ali, for instance, and Osman—­choose the old guard—­you and they bolt with him to Haifa.  The Syrians have been thoroughly undermined by propaganda; gas will do the rest, and as soon as the Arabs see the Syrians run they’ll listen to reason.  They know you, and know you’re on the level.  Do you understand?  Will you do that?”