He watched Yussuf lock the door again behind him, and then eyed the disheveled room with amused curiosity.  He was a rat-faced little man dressed in a black silk jacket, worsted pants and brown boots, with the inevitable tarboosh set at an angle of sheer impudence—­a man at least fifty years old by the look of him, but full of that peppery vigor that so often clings to little men in middle life.  On the whole he looked more like a school-teacher, or a lawyer then a conspirator; but Yussuf addressed him with great deference as “Noureddin Ali Bey,” and even old alligator-eyes became obsequious.

Both Yussuf and the other man began explaining the situation to him in rapid-fire Arabic.  I, meanwhile, recovering from the fit as fast as I dared and trying to remember how to do it.  Noureddin Ali was plainly for having me thrown out, until they mentioned the name of Staff-Captain Ali Mirza; at that he tried to cross-examine Suliman at great length, but could get nothing out of him.  Suliman had evidently overheard Grim talking about Noureddin Ali, and was very much afraid of him.

“All right,” Noureddin Ali said at last.  “No more business today, Yussuf.  Keep the door locked, but admit the captain.  We must find out what this message is about.”

Yussuf went to tidying up the place, while Noureddin Ali and the alligator person talked excitedly in low tones in the corner near the scullery door.  I lay on the floor with one eye open, expecting Grim every minute; but it must have been four in the afternoon before he came, and all that while, with only short intervals for food and coffee, Noureddin Ali and the other man talked steadily, discussing over and over again the details of some plan.

Shortly after midday Suliman began to whimper for food.  Yussuf produced a mess of rice and mutton, of which the two Syrians ate enormously before giving any to the boy; then they put what was left in the dish on the floor in front of me, pretty much in the way you feed a dog, and I hate to remember what I did to it.  It is enough that I did not overlook Grim’s advice to eat like a lunatic, and however suspicious of me Noureddin Ali might otherwise have been he was satisfied at the end of that performance.

Several people tried the door, and some of them made signals on it but Yussuf had a peep-hole where one of the heavy iron nails had been removed, and after a cautious squint through it at each arrival he proceeded to ignore them.  One man thundered on the door for several minutes, but was allowed to go away without as much as a word of explanation.

That was the first incident that made me feel quite sure Nourreddin Ali was in fear of the police.  All the time the thundering was going on he glanced furtively about him like a rat in a trap.  I saw him feel for a weapon under his arm-pit.  When the noise ceased and the impatient visitor went away he sighed with relief.  The place was certainly a trap; there was no back way out of it.