on them, and they'll keep it hidden as long as he snoops around; for
another, they'll be delighted not to have to let the French agent at
Deraa into the secret, because of the higher price they hope to get by
holding on. They'll smuggle it over the border and not open it until
they feel safe."

"Yes, but when they do look at it ..." said I.

"We'll be over the border, and they can't send telegrams to anywhere."

"Why not?"

"An Arab government precaution. If station agents all along the line
were allowed to send telegrams every seditious upstart would take
advantage of it and they'd have more trouble than they've got now. But
I warn you fellows, after Deraa--somewhere between the border and
Damascus--there'll be a fight. The minute they discover that the letter
is a fake they'll come for the real one like cats after a canary."

"Let 'em come!" smiled Jeremy, but Grim shook his head. "I've been
making that mistake too long," he answered. "No defensive tactics after
we leave Deraa! We'll start the trouble ourselves. You watch, after
Deraa the train crew will play cards in the caboose and leave Allah to
care for the passengers."

"There's only one thing troubles me," said Jeremy.

"What's that?"

"Narayan Singh got Yussuf Dakmar's shirt night before last. I've had it