has given us money!”
“Who has?”
“The lady Ayisha. We are to bring her this, and she will take poison from it and put it in the other woman’s food! So Jimgrim will be rid of her, and all will be well!”
I got Narayan Singh to keep his eye on the chest, and walked up to where Grim was going through the form of Moslem prayer, facing Mecca on his mat on the low hilltop. That was for the benefit of the prisoners, no doubt.
To save time I got down on my knees beside him and went through the same motions, keeping a bright lookout for interruptions and telling him in low tones all that had taken place, repeating conversations word for word as well as I could recall them.
At last we both squatted, facing each other, and he lighted a cigarette; but it was several minutes yet before he answered.
“Wants to make terms in a hurry, eh? And has the Lion’s seal with her?” he said at last.
“Well, as old Ali Baba keeps repeating, Allah makes all things easy! It’s a little soon to talk yet, but I think we’ve got the Lion of Petra on the hip!”
* Um Kulsum was a lady in Arabic legend whose immoralities have made her name a byword.
CHAPTER 10
“There’s no room for the two of you!”
Of course, no committee in the world ever yet did more than cloud an issue with argument. It takes one man to lead the way through any set of circumstances, and the only wise course for a committee is to make that man’s decision unanimous and back it loyally. But men have their rights, as Grim is always the first to admit.
Ali Baba came and joined us on the cliff-top, and Narayan Singh was not long following suit. The Sikh said nothing, but Ali Baba was conscious of the weight that years should give to his opinion, as well as justly proud of his night’s work, and not at all disposed to sit in silence.
“Now the right course, Jimgrim, is to make a great circuit and carry these two women back across the British border,” he began at once. “The Lion of Petra will then pay us all large sums of money, without which you will refuse to intercede with the government on his behalf for their return. Thus every one will be satisfied except the Lion, who will be too poor for a long time afterward to have much authority in these parts. Moreover, it will be told for a joke against him, and he will lose in prestige. I am an old man, who knows all about these matters.”
“What do you think, Narayan Singh?” Grim asked.
“Sahib, what are we but a flying column? Swiftness and surprise are our two advantages. We should be like a javelin thrown from ambush that seeks out the enemy’s heart. If we fail we are but a lost javelin—an officer, a sepoy, a civilian and a handful of thieves—there are plenty more! If we succeed there is a deed done well and cheaply! I never hunted lions, but I have seen a tiger trapped and beaten. Have we not good bait with us?”
There followed a hot argument between Arab and Sikh, each accusing the other of ulterior motives as well as ignorance and cowardice; in fact, they acted like any other committee, growing less and less parliamentary as their views diverged. Ali Baba seemed to consider it relevant to call Narayan Singh a drunkard, and the Sikh considered it his duty in the circumstances to refer to Ali Baba’s jail record. In the midst of all that effort to solve the problem at Petra, Grim asked me to go and invite Jael Higg to join us.
In that hard, uncharitable desert daylight she did not impress me very favorably. The lines of her freckled face suggested too much ruthlessness, as though she was positively handsome in a certain way—as long as you observed the whole effect and did not study details—there was a look of cold experience about her brown eyes that chilled you. Of course, she was tired and that made a difference; but I did not find it easy to feel sympathetic, and I thought she was hardly the woman to win a jury’s verdict on the strength of personal appeal.
Nevertheless, with all the odds against her, she accomplished that morning what I had never done, or seen done, although many have attempted it and failed. She contrived to tear away Grim’s mask and to expose the man’s real feelings.
He was always an enigma to me until that interview, at which they squatted facing each other on Grim’s mat, with me beside Grim and the Sikh and Ali Baba glaring daggers at each other on either hand. The early sun seemed to edge everybody with a sort of aura, but it also showed every detail of a face and made it next to impossible to hide emotion.
She opened the ball. I imagine she had been doing that most of her life.
“Jimgrim,” she said. “Jimgrim. Are you by any chance the American named James Grim, who fought with Lawrence in Allenby’s campaign?”
Grim astonished us all by admitting it at once. The name Jimgrim sounds enough like Arabic to pass muster; and we wondered why he should have gone to all that trouble to disguise himself, only to confess his real name when there seemed no need. Even Ali Baba left off cursing the Sikh under his breath.
“I am glad to know that,” she said. “It will save my wasting words. No man could ever get your reputation without being ruthless. I won’t annoy you by pleading for mercy.”
And she looked at once as merciless as she expected him to be.
“Now, Jael Higg,” he answered, “let’s talk sense.”
“You’re a rare one, if you can!” she retorted.
“Let’s do our best,” he said kindly.
She looked very keenly at him for thirty seconds, and seemed to make up her mind that she had no chance against him.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll begin by being sensible. How much money do you want?”
It is true that the more you analyze Grim’s face the more he does impress you as a keen business man. But there are modifying symptoms. He did not appear to have heard the question.
“I want you to be straightforward and tell me all you know of Ali Higg’s circumstances.”
“Yes. I’d expect you to want that. As an American hired by the British to help them exploit this country, that’s what you would ask. After you know all about him you can fix the ransom. That right? Well, I won’t tell.”
“I hoped we were going to talk sense,” he answered quietly.
“How can anyone talk sense with a man like you? What are you doing in this country? ‘Horning in’ is what they’d call it in America. You’ve got no business here. It’s different in my case. I’m married to Ali Higg. I’ve thrown in my lot with these people. I’ve a right to help them to independence. But what right have you got to interfere? Bah! Name your price. I’ll pay if I can.”
“Well, Jael,” he answered with a rather whimsical smile. “I’ll try to disillusion you to begin with. Perhaps if you understand me better you’ll be reasonable.
“All I know is Arabic and Arabs. I’ve no other gifts, and I like to be some use in the world. I’m real fond of Arabs.
