Nemo me impune lacessit; that’s my motto. I’ve got teeth, and I like the world to know it. However, as you seem eager to reinforce a lame apology by doing the right thing, I’ll bet bygones be bygones and we’ll forget the incident.”
Jim’s memory was reputed to be a trifle more retentive that that, had Jenkins stopped to think, but the brigadier was full steam ahead already on the track of self-advancement with the terminus in view. The brakes weren’t working.
“Sit down. Now this thieving that has been going on in the camp is a perfectly scandalous business. There’s no excuse for it. Not counting that TNT, which was returned to store—thanks to some extent, I believe to your efforts—the Army has lost a hundred and nine rifles in three months, to say nothing of countless rounds of ammunition—blankets—groceries—soap—underclothing— and stores of all kinds. Incompetence, of course. Best not to mention names.
“Between you and me, I’ve been waiting for the Army auditor to check things up and discover how much is missing. That’s done now. They know in Cairo just how much remissness there has been.
“Now’s the time, then, for somebody to get credit for changing that state of affairs. You’re a man who’s had rapid promotion; there’s no need to tell you that the paving of the short cut consists of other men’s mistakes. Very well. Somebody will have to pay; but what is that man’s poison may turn out to be your meat and mine. D’you get my meaning?”
“Perfectly.”
“Have a cigar. It’s obvious to the meanest intelligence—or at least it ought to be obvious, you’d think—that these thieves have a headquarters. Any general with half an eye would recognize signs of the thieves being organized. That means they’ve got a leader—perhaps two or three men, but more likely one—directing all of them. Is that much clear?”
“Sounds obvious.”
“It is. My notion of a good commanding office is a man with his ear to the ground, who listens, and knows what the men are saying. Any man with only one ear, and that half full of wax, would know that it’s common talk in this camp that the captain of thieves is a notorious leper. Have you heard of him?”
“Yes.”
“Have you heard any reasonable explanation as to why he’s left at liberty? No, of course you haven’t, for there is none. There’s a reason given, of course, but it’s childish. They’re afraid of offending the Moslems. Now listen to me.”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“Have a drink. Help yourself. Now who would stand to gain most by stealing weapons? Eh? Who are they who want to possess a country owned by present by Arabs—who are being threatened everlastingly by Arabs—who have no weapons of their own, and whose grip on the country is only made temporarily possible by an army of occupation dependent on the whims of a Foreign Office? The Zionists, eh? D’you get me?”
“Then you mean—”
“I mean this: The Arabs have lots of weapons hidden away. The Zionists have none—or had none until this thieving started. The Zionists believe, what I’m quite sure of, that they’re going to get left in the lurch by our Foreign Office sooner or later. So they’ve hired Arabs to steal rifles for them, for Jews to use against Arabs later on. D’you follow me?”
“I see the drift.”
“Kettle and Anthony and the rest of them imagine that the Zionists are going to have it all their own way with the backing of the British Government. But I know better. I happen to have influential connections at home who keep me posted; and between you and me the Zionists are going to be told before long to paddle their own canoe.
“Of course, the Zionists have their own friends at the Foreign Office, who keep them posted, too; they know as well as you and I do what’s likely to happen, and that the minute it does they’ll be at the mercy of the Arabs unless they can arm themselves in advance. Failing arms, they’ll have to get out of the country. That’s inevitable finally; they’ll have to get out. You can take my word for it, the solution of this Palestine problem is going to be an Arab kingdom. The Zionists haven’t a chance.”
Jim saw no reason to argue with a man who chose to back a losing horse. He sat still.
“I rather think General Anthony himself suspects this thieving is the work of Zionists,” Jenkins went on. “But he’s afraid of Zionists, as well as more than half in favor of them. I’m not. I know which side my bread is buttered on, and I’m pro-Arab to the core. Are you?”
“I’m extremely partial to Arabs,” Jim answered guardedly. “Can’t help liking them.”
“So we’ll just take a fall out of the Zionists ahead of time, and let the Arabs know who their individual friends are, with an eye to the future. Get after that iblis, as they call him, Grim, as soon as you like. Scratch him and I think you’ll find a Jew; if not, you’ll discover a Jew somewhere back of him.”
“I thought of getting on his trail tonight,” said Jim.
“Good. Do. Report to me and to no one else. See you in the morning, then. So long.”
* * * * *
Ten minutes later Jim turned up at Catesby’s tent.
“No ‘home on a trooper’ for you, old man! This Jenkins bird is going to provide you with work.”
“But you’ve got to whitewash the brute!”
“Sure. The Lord alone knows how yet, but he shall have such an elegant ducking in white paint that it won’t ever come off. Your parole’s to be raised for fourteen days, and we’ll work together to pump Jinks so full of self- importance that he’ll burst. Meanwhile, I’ll get some sleep. You do the same. Don’t forget, if anybody asks, that you need liberty to hunt up evidence to clear yourself. So long.”
CHAPTER IV
“Moreover, Jimgrim, you are my friend!”
No city in the world can vie with a great camp for binding spells, by night especially; for the city only represents what men have done, whereas the camp allures with what they mean to do. The policeman at a crossing signifies that what today approves tomorrow will repeat. The sentry with firelight dancing on his pointed steel denotes the alertness of unfolding destiny. The entertainment of a city is the fruit of things accomplished, growing rotten, but the thrilling murmur of a camp by night is the prelude to new heavens and a new earth.
There was no moon when Jim led the way between the whickering horse- lines, followed by Catesby, Narayan Singh and Suliman. They were all dressed as Arabs, so that every sentry challenged them, and once a bayonet point pierced through Jim’s garments to his skin before he could reply; for the Sikh on duty likes his ceremony swift, and takes no chances.
Each time that Jim whispered the password the four were followed into the shadows by wondering, suspicious eyes; then, as if afterthought increased suspicion, the sentry’s voice would call out harshly to the next ahead, and three times before they reached the camp gate an officer was fetched to quiz them.
In
