"Must be a mistake, though. The man I'm looking for is taller
than you--very dark--looks, walks, speaks and acts like a
Bedouin. I saw him this afternoon in Bedouin costume in the
American Colony store."

"Yes, I noticed you. Sit down, won't you? Yes, I'm he--the
Bedouin abayi* seems to add to a man's height. Soap and water
account for the rest of it. These cigars are from the States."
[*Long-sleeved outer cloak.]

It was hard to believe, even on the strength of his straight
statement--he talking undisguised American, and smiling at me, no
doubt vastly pleased with my incredulity.

"Are you a case of Jekyll and Hyde?" I asked.

"No. I'm more like both sides of a sandwich with some army mule-
meat in the middle. But I won't be interviewed. I hate it.
Besides, it's against the regulations."

His voice was not quite so harshly nasal as those of the Middle
West, but he had not picked up the ultra-English drawl and
clipped-off consonants that so many Americans affect abroad
and overdo.

I don't think a wise crook would have chosen him as a subject for
experiments. He had dark eyes with noticeably long lashes;
heavy eyebrows; what the army examination-sheets describe as a
medium chin; rather large hands with long, straight fingers;
and feet such as an athlete stands on, fully big for his size,