“What sort of notes do you want from me?”

“You mustn’t mistake me for the prophet Ezekiel,” he answered, grinning. “‘Thus saith the Lord’ is all right when you know what you’re talking about.  All I know for certain is that I’ve got to bag Abdul Ali.  If you get information that looks important to you, get it to me in the way I’ve told you, that’s all.  Don’t be caught talking to me.  Don’t look friendly.  Don’t seem interested.”

“What else?”

“If you can, keep old Anazeh sober.”

“Oh!”

Grim nodded meaningly:  “I’ve known easier jobs!”

“The old sport thinks no more of me than of an express package he’d been hired to deliver,” I answered.  “Drunk or sober, he’d brush me aside like a fly.”

“Well—­wits were given us to use.  I guess you’ll have to use yours.  Have you any?”

“How the hell should I know?” I retorted.

“If you find I haven’t any, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t,” he answered, and I believed him.

“What else besides being dry-nurse to the king of the Amalekites?” I asked.

“Don’t trust Ahmed.”

“He’s a good interpreter.”

“Yeh—­and a poor peg.  You’ll have to use him—­some.  But don’t trust him.”

“Does old Anazeh know you in that disguise?” I asked.

“No, and he mustn’t.  I’ll tell you why.  All these people are religious fanatics.  A horrible death is the only fate they would consider for a man caught masquerading as a holy personage the way I’m doing.  But their fanaticism has a way of petering out when the gang’s not there to see.  In his own village I think Anazeh would laugh if I talked this ruse over with him—­ afterwards.  But if he knew about it here, with all these other fanatics alert and fanning, he wouldn’t dare not to expose me.  It’s a good job you asked that.  If I send any message to Anazeh through you, be sure you don’t give me away.”

“How shall I make him believe the message is from you, then?”

“Begin with ‘Jimgrim says.’  He’ll recognize the formula.  But if he questions that, say ‘A lion knows a lion in the dark.’  That’ll serve a double purpose—­convince him and jog his memory.  He ignored a request of mine—­once, and I was able to get back at him.  Tell you the story some day.  Nowadays he’s more or less dependable, unless he gets a skin-full of redeye.  Well, make the most of your chance to sleep; you may have to go short later.  I’m going to saw off a cord or two myself.”

He left the room as silently as a ghost.  I don’t doubt that he slept peacefully.  Subsequent acquaintance with him convinced me that he can go to sleep almost anywhere in any circumstances.  And that is a very great gift, for it enables its owner to wear down any dozen who must sleep for stated hours at fixed intervals.  Grim snatches his whenever the chance comes, and goes without with apparent indifference.  He told me once that he dreams nearly all the time he is asleep.  But the dreams don’t seem to trouble him.  I believe he dreams out the key to whatever problem puzzles him at the moment.