I think he rather liked that. As I came to know him more
intimately later on he revealed an iron delight in being trusted.
But he did not say another word for several minutes, as if there
were maps in his mind that he was conning before reaching a
decision. Then he spoke suddenly.

"Are you busy?" he asked. "Then come with me."

He phoned to some place or other for a staff automobile, and the
man was there with it within three minutes. We piled in and
drove at totally unholy speed down narrow streets between walls,
around blind right-angle turns where Arab policemen stood waving
unintelligible signals, and up the Mount of Olives, past the
British military grave-yard, to the place they call OETA.* The
Kaiser had it built to command every view of the countryside and
be seen from everywhere, as a monument to his own greatness--the
biggest, lordliest, most expensive hospice that his architects
could fashion, with pictures in mosaic on the walls and ceilings
of the Kaiser and his ancestors in league with the Almighty. But
the British had adopted it as Administration Headquarters.
[*Headquarters: Occupied Enemy Territory Administration.]

All the way up, behind and in front and on either hand, there
were views that millions* would give years of their lives to see;
and they would get good value for their bargain. Behind us, the
sky-line was a panorama of the Holy City, domes, minarets and
curved stone roofs rising irregularly above gray battlemented
walls. Down on the right was the ghastly valley of Jehoshaphat,
treeless, dry, and crowded with white tombs--"dry bones in the