CHAPTER VI

"Better the evil that we know..."


Yussuf Dakmar had his nerve with him that night, or possibly desperation
robbed him of discretion. He may have been a more than usually daring
man with his wits about him, but you'd have to hunt down the valley of
death before you could bring the psychoanalytic guns to bear on him for
what they're worth. I can only tell you what he did, not why he did it.

The great hospice that the German nation built on the crown of the Mount
of Olives to glorify their Kaiser stood like a shadow among shadows in
its compound, surrounded by a fairly high wall. There was a pretty
strong' guard under an Indian officer in the guard-house at the arched
main gate where the sentry challenged us.

A sentry stood at the foot of the steps under the portico at the main
entrance, and there was another armed man on duty patrolling the
grounds. But there were one or two other entrances, locked, though
quite easy to negotiate, which the sentry could only observe while he
marched toward them; for five minutes at a time, while his back was
turned, at least two gates leading to official residences offered
opportunity to an active man.

One lone light at a window on the top floor suggested that the officer
of the night might be awake, but what with the screeching of owls and a