The sheikh arrived at last, following Goodenough down the dark passage with the supreme nonchalance of the priest too long familiar with sacred places to be thrilled or frightened by them.  He stood in the entrance gazing about him, blinking speculatively through the folds of fat surrounding his bright eyes.  Goodenough took the lantern and held it close to the prisoners’ faces one by one.

“You see?” he said.  “All Syrians.  All Moslems.  Not a Jew among them.  I’ll take you and show you the others presently.”

“What will you do with them?”

“That’s for a court to decide.  Hang them, most likely.  They were plotting murder.”

“They will talk at the trial.”

“Behind closed doors!” said Goodenough.

“Ahum!” said the sheikh, stroking his beard.  It would not have been compatible with either his religion or his racial consciousness not to try to make the utmost of the situation.  “This would be a bad thing for all the Christian governments if the tale leaked out.  Religious places have been desecrated.  There would be inflammation of Moslem prejudices everywhere.”

“It would be worse for you!” Grim retorted.  The sheikh stared hard at him, stroking his beard again,

“How so, Jimgrim?  Have I had a hand in this?”

“This is your famous Bir-el-Arwah, where, as you tell your faithful, the souls of the dead come to pray twice a week.  This is the gulf beneath the Rock of Abraham that you tell them reaches to the middle of the world.  Look at it!  Shall we publish flashlight photographs?”

The sheikh’s eyes twinkled as he recognized the force of that argument.  He turned it over in his mind for a full minute before he answered.

“You cannot be expected to understand spiritual things,” he said at last.  “However,” looking up, “this is not under the Rock.  This is another place.”

Goodenough pulled a compass from his pocket, but Grim shook his head.

“Go on,” said Grim.  “What of it?”

“It is better to close up this place and say nothing.”

“Except this.”  Goodenough retorted:  “you will say at the first and every succeeding opportunity that you know it is not true that Zionists tried to blow up the Dome of the Rock.”

“How do I know they did not try?”

“Perhaps we’d better ask the Administrator to come and inspect this place officially and put the exact facts on the record,” Goodenough retorted.

“You understand, don’t you?” said Grim.

“Everything we’ve done until now has been strictly unofficial.  There’s a difference.”

“And this effendi?” he asked, staring at me.  “What of him?”

“He is commended to your special benevolence,” Grim answered.  “The way to keep a man like him discreet is to make a friend of him.  Treat him as you do me, then we three shall be friends.”

The sheikh nodded, and that proved to be the beginning of a rather intimate acquaintance with him that stood me in good stead more than once afterwards.  The influence that a man in his position can exert, if he cares to, is almost beyond the belief of those who pin their faith to money and mere officialdom.