information into one intelligible pattern; after which he interprets it
and acts suddenly without advance notices.

Time and again, lone-handed, he has done better than an army corps, by
playing chief against chief in a land where the only law is individual
interpretation of the Koran.

But it wasn't until our rescue of Jeremy Ross from near Abu Kem, that I
ever heard Grim come out openly and admit that he was working to
establish Feisul, third son of the King of Mecca, as king of just as
many Arabs as might care to have him over them. That was the cat he had
been keeping in a bag for seven years.

Right down to the minute when Grim, Jeremy and I sat down with Ben Saoud
the Avenger on a stricken field at Abu Kem, and Grim and Jeremy played
their hands so cleverly that the Avenger was made, unwitting guardian of
Jeremy's secret gold-mine, and Feisul's open and sworn supporter in the
bargain, the heart of Grim's purpose continued to be a mystery even to
me; and I have been as intimate with him as any man.

He doles out what he has in mind as grudgingly as any Scot spends the
shillings in his purse. But the Scots are generous when they have to
be, and so is Grim. There being nothing else for it on that occasion,
he spilled the beans, the whole beans, and nothing but the beans.
Having admitted us two to his secret, he dilated on it all the way back
to Jerusalem, telling us all he knew of Feisul (which would fill a
book), and growing almost lyrical at times as he related incidents in
proof of his contention that Feisul, lineal descendant of the Prophet
Mohammed, is the "whitest" Arab and most gallant leader of his race
since Saladin.