up. It's like catching a monkey; you put corn into a narrow-necked
basket. The monkey inserts his arm, fills his hand with corn, and tries
to pull it out, but can't unless he lets go of the corn, which he won't
do. So you catch him. Yussuf Dakmar held up his pants with one hand,
and tried to free himself from Jeremy with the other. If he had let go
his pants he might have seized the envelope and discovered what a fake
it was; but he wouldn't do that. It was I who pounced on it and stowed
it away carefully in my inner pocket.

Yussuf Dakmar's emotions were poignant and mixed, but he was no quitter.
He thought he knew definitely where the letter was now, and the wolf
glance with which he favoured me changed swiftly to a smile of
ingratiating politeness.

"I am glad you have recovered what you lost," he said, smiling, as he
fastened up his pants and resumed his coat. "This friend of yours--or
is he your servant?--made me nervous with his threats, or I should
certainly have found it for you sooner."

And now Grim resumed a hand. The last thing he wished was that Yussuf
Dakmar should consider his quest too difficult, for then he would
probably summon assistance at Haifa. Encouragement was the proper cue,
now that Jeremy had tantalized him with a glimpse of the bait. We had
nothing to fear from him unless he should lose heart.

"The value of a sum lies in the answer," he said, quoting one of those
copybook proverbs with which all Syrians love to clinch an argument.

"The letter is in its owner's pocket. The accuser should now apologize,
and we can spend the rest of the journey pleasantly."