beside it, will they not believe? Every hour in Jerusalem, and in all
the world, men believe things less credible than that!'

"But at that, sahib, another man asked him how they might know that the
letter really came from Damascus. 'It well might be,' said that one, 'a
forgery contrived by Yussuf Dakmar himself, in which case though they
might stir many Moslems into action by showing it, the men in Damascus
would fail to follow up the massacre by striking at the French. And if
they do not strike at the French,' said he, 'the French will not appeal
to the British for aid; and so the British troops will be free to
protect the Jews and butcher us, by which means we shall be worse off
than before.'

"Whereat Yussuf Dakmar laughed again. 'If ye will go to the Sikh
hospital,' said he, 'ye will find there the man who brought the letter.
He lies in a cot in the upper storey with a knife-wound between his
shoulder-blades. It was a mistaken accident unfortunate for him; the
letter was intended for me, but I did not know that. What does the life
of one fool matter? He gave out that Jews stabbed him, and it may be he
believes that; yet I have the letter in my pocket here!' And he
touched with one hand the portion of his coat beneath which was the
pocket that contained the letter. I was watching, sahib, from where I
lay hidden.

"He was about, I think, to show them the letter, when another thought
occurred to him. He wrinkled his brow, as if seeking words in which to
make his meaning clear, and they seemed willing enough to wait for him,
but not so I, for I now knew where the letter was. So I sprang into
their midst, falling less dangerously than I might have done by reason
of a man's shoulders that served for a cushion. It may be that his