too, before this game’s played,” Grim answered. “D’you see now why I picked on you for an accomplice?”
“I do not.”
“You’re the one man in Jerusalem whom nobody will suspect, or be on the look-out for. The men we’re up against are the shrewdest rats in Palestine. They’ve got a list of British officers, my name included, of course. They’ll know which men are assigned to special duty, and they’ll keep every one of us shadowed.”
“Won’t that—I mean, how can you work if you’re shadowed?”
“Me? I shall catch my spur in the carpet, fall downstairs and break a leg at ten-fifteen. At ten-thirty the doctor comes, and finds me too badly hurt to be moved. He sends word of it to Sir Louis by an orderly who can be trusted to talk to any one he meets on the way. I leave by the back way at ten forty-five. However, here’s a chance for you to practise deaf-and-dumb drill. There’s some one coming. Squat down in that corner. Look meek and miserable. That’s the stuff. Answer the door, Suliman.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
“YOU MAY NOW BE UNSAFE AND AN OUTLAW AND ENJOY YOURSELF!”
The man who entered was a short, middle-aged Jew of the type that writes political reviews for magazines—black morning coat, straw hat, gold pince-nez—a neatly trimmed dark beard beginning to turn gray from intense mental emotion—nearly bald—a manner of conceding the conventions rather than argue the point, without admitting any necessity for them—a thin-lipped smile that apologized for smiling in a world so serious and bitter. He wore a U.S.A. ten-dollar gold piece on his watch chain, by way of establishing his nationality.
“Well, Mr. Eisernstein? Trouble again? Sit down and let’s hear the worst,” said Grim.
Eisernstein remained standing and glanced at me over in the corner.
“I will wait until you are alone.”
“Ignore him—deaf and dumb,” Grim answered. “Half a minute, though—have you had breakfast?”
“Breakfast! This is no time for eating, Mister—I beg your pardon, Major Grim. I have not slept. I shall not break my fast until my duty is done. If it is true that the Emperor Nero fiddled while Rome burned, then I find him no worse than this Administrator!”
“Has he threatened to crucify you?” Grim asked. “Take a seat, do.”
“He may crucify me, and I will thank him, if he will only in return for it pay some attention to the business for which he draws a salary! I drove to Headquarters to see him. He was not there. Nobody would tell me where he is. I drove down again from the Mount of Olives and luckily caught sight of his car in the distance. I contrived to intercept him. I told him there is a plot on foot to massacre every individual of my race in the Near East—a veritable pogrom. He was polite. He seems to think politeness is the Christian quality that covers the multitude of sins. He offered me a cigar!
“I offered him a telegram blank, with which to cable for reenforcements! He said that all rumours in Jerusalem become exaggerated very quickly, and offered me a guard of one soldier to follow me about! I insisted on immediate military precautions on a large scale failing which I will cable the Foreign Office in London at my own expense. I offered to convince him with particulars about this contemplated pogrom but he said he had an urgent appointment and referred me to you, just as Nero might have referred a question regarding the amphitheatre to one of his subordinates!”
“Pogroms mean nothing in his young life,” Grim answered smiling. “I’m here to do the dirty work. Suppose you spill the news.”
“You must have heard the news! Yet you ignore it! The Moslems are saying that we Zionists have offered two million pounds, or some such ridiculous sum, for the site of Solomon’s Temple. They are spreading the tale broadcast. Their purpose is to stir up fanaticism against us. The ignorant among them set such value on that rock and the mosque their cut-throat ancestors erected on it that Jews are now openly threatened as they pass through the streets. Yet there is not one word of truth in the story of our having made any such offer.”
“There are plenty of troops,” said Grim. “Any attempt at violence could be handled instantly.”
“Then you will do nothing?”
“What do you suggest ought to be done?”
“Here is a list. Read it. Those are the names of fifty Arabs who are active in spreading anti-Zionist propaganda.”
Grim read the list carefully.
“All talkers,” he said. “Not a really dangerous man among them.”
“Ah! There you are! I might have expected it!” Eisernstein threw up his hands in a gesture of contempt rather than despair. “Nobody cares what happens to Jews. Nobody cares for our sleepless agony of mind. Nobody cares how or what we suffer until afterward, when there will be polite expressions of regret, which the survivors will assess at a true valuation! It is the same wherever we turn. Last night—at half-past one in the morning—a committee of us, every one American, Called at the American consulate to tell our consul of our danger. The consul was unsympathetic in the last degree. Yet our coreligionists in the States are taxed to pay his salary. He said it was not his business. He referred us to the Administrator. The Administrator refers me to you. To whom do you refer me? To the devil, I suppose!”
“The best thing you can do,” said. Grim, “is to go ahead and deny that story about the offer to buy the Dome of the Rock. You Zionists have got the most efficient publicity bureau on earth. You can reach the public ear any time you want to. Deny the story, and keep on denying it.”
“Ah! Who will believe us? To be a Zionist is to be a person about whom anybody will believe anything; and the more absurd the lie, the more readily it will be believed! Meanwhile, the Moslems are sharpening their swords against us from one end of this land to the other!”
I suppose that what Eisernstein really needed more than anything was sympathy, not good advice. Grim’s deliberate coolness only irritated the passion of a man, whose whole genius and energy were bent on realizing the vision of a nation of Jews firmly established in their ancient home. A people that has been tortured in turn by all the governments can hardly be expected to produce un-nervous politicians. He was at the mercy of emotions, obsessed by one paramount idea. A little praise just then of his loyalty to an ideal, to which he had sacrificed time, means, health, energy, everything, would have soothed him and hurt nobody. But the acidity of his scorn had bitten beneath the surface of Grim’s good humor.
“There’ll be no pogrom,” Grim said, getting up and lighting a cigarette. “There’ll be nothing resembling one. But that won’t be the fault of you Zionists. You accuse without rime or reason, but you yell for help the minute you’re accused yourselves. I don’t blame the Arabs for not liking you. Nobody expects Arabs to enjoy having their home invaded by an organization of foreigners. Yet if this Administration lifts a finger to make things easier for the Arabs you howl that it’s unfair.
“If the Administrator refuses to arrest Arabs for talking a little wildly, you call him a Nero. I’m neither pro- nor anti-Zionist myself. You and the Arabs may play the game out between you for all of me. But I can promise you there’ll be no pogrom. It is my business to
