"Yussuf Dakmar came no nearer than the street," Grim answered. "He has
no notion who is in here. His three friends are in jail under lock and
key, where he can't get at them. How long have you had this house?
Since yesterday, isn't it? D'you kid yourself that Yussuf Dakmar knows
who lives here?"

"I can get leave of absence. Suppose I go in Mabel's place?" suggested
Ticknor, visibly worried.

"The mere fact that she goes, while you stay here, will be presumptive
evidence that she isn't on a dangerous mission," Grim answered. "No. It
has got to be a woman. If Mabel won't go I'll find someone else."

You could tell by Mabel's eyes and attitude that she was what the
salesmen call "sold" already; but you didn't need a magnifying glass to
detect that Ticknor wasn't. Men of his wandering habit know too well
what a brave, good-tempered wife means to encourage her to take long
chances; for although there are lots of women who would like to wander
and accept the world's pot luck, there are precious few capable of doing
it without doubling a fellow's trouble; when they know how to halve the
trouble and double the fun they're priceless.

Grim played his usual game, which is to spank down his ace of trumps
face upward on the table. Most of us forget what are trumps in a
crisis.

"I guess it's up to you, doc," he said, turning toward Ticknor. "There's
nothing in it for you. Feisul isn't on the make; I don't believe he
cares ten cents who is to be the nominal ruler of the Arabs, provided