I went to the Governorate and phoned for the car to come and pick
me up outside the Jaffa Gate. The Arab followed me, and he and I
were both searched at the gate for weapons, by a Sikh who knew
nothing and cared less about Near East politics. His orders were
to search thoroughly. He did it. The man whose turn was next
ahead of mine was a Russian priest, whose long black cloak did
not save him from painstaking suspicion. He was still
indignantly refusing to take down his pants and prove that the
hard lump on his thigh was really an amulet against sciatica,
when the car came for me.

It was an ordinary Ford car, and the driver was not in uniform.
He, too, had only one eye in full commission, for the other was
bruised and father swollen. I got in beside him and let the Arab
have the rear seat to himself, reflecting that I would be able to
smell all the Arab sweat I cared to in the days to come.

We are governed much more by our noses than we are often aware
of, and I believe that many people--in the East especially--use
scent because intuition warns them that their true smell would
arouse unconscious antagonism. Dogs, as well as most wild
animals, fight at the suggestion of a smell. Humans only differ
from the animals, much, when they are being self-consciously
human. Then they forget what they really know and tumble
headlong into trouble.

The driver seemed to know which road to take, and to be in no
particular hurry, perhaps on account of his injured eye. He was