Jimgrim and Allah's Peace (Spy Thriller). Talbot Mundy

sign such a letter,” said I.

      “Good. Here are pen and paper. Let’s have it all in your handwriting. I’ll call a clerk to witness the signature.”

      I wrote down the simple statement that I wished to go to El-Kerak for personal reasons, and that I waived all claim against the British Administration for personal protection, whether there or en route. A clerk, who looked as if he could not have been hired to know, or understand, or remember anything without permission, came in answer to the bell. I signed. He witnessed.

      Sir Louis put the letter in a drawer, and the clerk went out again.

      “How soon will you go?”

      I told about the promised escort, and that a day or two would be needed to get word to ben Nasir. I forgot that ben Nasir would not start before moonrise. It appeared that Sir Louis knew more than he cared to admit.

      “Can’t we get word to ben Nasir for him, Grim?”

      Grim nodded. So did Sir Louis:

      “Good. There’ll be no need, then, for you to take any one into confidence,” he said, turning to me again. “As a rule it isn’t well to talk about these things, because people get wrong ideas. There are others in Jerusalem who would like permission to go to El-Kerak.”

      “I’ll tell nobody.”

      He nodded again. He was still considering things in the back of his mind, while those intelligent, bright eyes smiled so disarmingly.

      “How do you propose to reach the Dead Sea?” he asked. “Ben Nasir’s escort will probably meet you on the shore on this side.”

      “Oh, hire some sort of conveyance, I suppose.”

      “Couldn’t we lend him one of our cars, Grim?”

      Grim nodded again.

      “We’ll do that. Grim, can you get word to ben Nasir so that when the escort is ready he may send a messenger straight to the hotel with the information? D’you get my meaning?”

      “Sure,” said Grim, “nobody else need know then.”

      “Very well,” said Sir Louis. He rose from his chair to intimate that the precise moment had arrived when I might leave without indiscretion. It was not until I was outside the door that I realized that my permission was simply verbal, and that the only document that had changed hands had been signed by me. Grim followed me into the ante-room after a minute.

      “Hadn’t I better go back and ask for something in writing from him?” I suggested.

      “You wouldn’t get it. Anyhow, you’re dealing with a gentleman. You needn’t worry. I was afraid once or twice you might be going to ask him questions. He’d have canned you if you had. Why didn’t you?”

      I was not going to help Grim dissect my mental processes.

      “There’s a delightful air of mystery,” I said, “I’d hate to spoil it!”

      “Come up on the tower,” he said. “There’s just time before sunset. If you’ve good eyes, I’ll show you El-Kerak.”

      It is an enormous tower. The wireless apparatus connected with it can talk with Paris and Calcutta. From the top you feel as if you were seeing “all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time.” There are no other buildings to cut off the view or tamper with perspective. The Dead Sea was growing dark. The Moab Hills beyond it looked lonely and savage in silhouette.

      “Down there on your left is Jericho,” said Grim. “That winding creek beyond it is the Jordan. As far eastward as that there’s some peace. Beyond that, there is hardly a rock that isn’t used for ambush regularly. Let your eye travel along the top of the hills—nearly as far as the end of the Dead Sea. Now—d’you see where a touch of sunlight glints on something? That’s the top of the castle-wall of El-Kerak. Judge what strategists those old crusaders were. That site commands the ancient high road from Egypt. They could sit up there and take toll to their hearts’ content. The Turks quartered troops in the castle and did the same thing. But the Turks overdid it, like everything else. They ruined the trade. No road there nowadays that amounts to anything.”

      “It looks about ten miles away.”

      “More than eighty.”

      The sun went down behind us while we watched, and here and there the little scattered lights came out among the silent hills in proof that there were humans who thought of them in terms of home.

      Venus and Mars shone forth, yellow and red jewels; then the moon, rising like a stage effect, too big, too strongly lighted to seem real, peering inch by inch above the hills and ushering in silence. We could hear one muezzin in Jerusalem wailing that God is God.

      “That over yonder is savage country,” Grim remarked. “I think maybe you’ll like it. Time to go now.”

      He said nothing more until we were scooting downhill in the car in the midst of a cloud of dust.

      “You won’t see me again,” he said then, “until you get to El-Kerak. There are just one or two points to bear in mind. D’you care if I lecture?”

      “I wish you would.”

      “When the messenger comes from ben Nasir, go to the Governorate, just outside the Damascus Gate, phone OETA, say who you are, and ask for the car. Travel light. The less you take with you, the less temptation there’ll be to steal and that much less danger for your escort. I always take nothing, and get shaved by a murderer at the nearest village. If you wash too much, or change your shirt too often, they suspect you of putting on airs. Can’t travel too light. Use the car as far as Jericho, or thereabouts, and send it back when the messenger says he’s through with it. After that, do whatever the leader of the escort tells you, and you’ll be all right.”

      “How do I cross the Dead Sea?”

      “That’s ben Nasir’s business. There’s another point I’ll ask you to bear in mind. When you see me at El-Kerak, be sure not to make the slightest sign of recognition, unless and until you get word from me. Act as if you’d never seen me in your life before.”

      I felt like an arch-conspirator, and there is no other sensation half so thrilling. The flattery of being let in, as it were, through a secret door was like strong wine.

      “Is your memory good?” Grim asked me. “If you make notes, be sure you let everybody see them; you’ll find more than one of them can read English. If you should see or overhear anything that you’d particularly like to remember because it might prove useful to me, note it down by making faint dots under the letters of words you’ve already written; or—better yet—take along a pocket Bible; they’re all religious and respect the Bible. Make faint pencil lines underneath words or letters, and they’ll think you’re more than extra devout. There’s nothing special to watch out for; just keep your ears and eyes open. Well, here’s your hotel. See you again soon. So long.”

      I got out of the car and went to get ready for a Christian dinner served by Moslems, feeling like a person out of the Arabian Nights, who had just met the owner of a magic carpet on which one only had to sit in order to be wafted by invisible forces into unimaginable realms of mystery.

      CHAPTER THREE.

      “DO WHATEVER THE LEADER OF THE ESCORT TELLS YOU.”

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      I never learned exactly how Jim Grim got word to ben Nasir. My suspicion is that he took the simple course of getting the American Colony to send one of their men; but as they never referred to it afterwards, and might have their own reasons for keeping silence, I took care not to ask them. We have most of us seen harm done by noisy gratitude for kindness, better covered up.

      I kept close to the hotel for three days, studying Arabic. By the fourth