"Well? Where does my gold mine come in?" Jeremy asked.

"Feisul has no money. If it was made clear to him that he could serve
the Arabs best by going to London, he'd consider it. The objection
would be, though, that he'd have to make terms in advance with
hog-financiers, who'd work through the Foreign Office to tie up all the
oil and mine and irrigation concessions. If we tell him privately about
your gold mine at Abu Kem he can laugh at financiers."

"All right," said Jeremy, "I'll give him the gold mine. Let him erect a
modern plant and he'll have millions!"

"Uh-huh! Keep the mine secret. Let him go to London and arrange about
Mespot. Just at present High Finance could find a hundred ways of
disputing his title to the mine, but once he's king with the Arabs all
rooting for him things'll be different. He'll treat you right when that
time comes, don't worry."

"Worry? Me?" said Jeremy. "All that worries me is having to see this
business through before we can make a wake for Sydney. I'm homesick.
But never mind. All right, you fellers, I'll make one to give this
Feisul boy a hoist!"




CHAPTER II

"Atcha, Jimgrim sahib! Atcha!"