intervals. Grim snatches his whenever the chance comes, and goes
without with apparent indifference. He told me once that he
dreams nearly all the time he is asleep. But the dreams don't
seem to trouble him. I believe he dreams out the key to whatever
problem puzzles him at the moment.

My own sleep was done for that night, his advice notwithstanding.
I lay listening to Anazeh's thunderous snores and naturally
enough imagining every possible contingency and dozens that were
totally impossible. Nothing turned out in the least like any of
my forecasts; but that was not for want of trying to foresee it
all. I don't seem to possess any of that quiet gift of waiting
to deal with each development on its merits, as and when it
comes. I have to speculate, and speculation is the ene my
of peace.

Looking back, I don't think I felt a bit afraid of the immediate
future; but that was due to ignorance of nearly all that the
present held. I think that was part of Grim's reason for helping
me to reach El-Kerak in the first place; he counted on my
ignorance of danger to keep me cool-headed. It is true, it did
dawn on me that if my host were to suspect me of intriguing under
cover of his protection, the protection might cease with
disconcerting abruptness. I realized to some extent what a
predicament that would be. But on the whole, I think the only
real worry was the definite task Grim had given me--the
thankless, and very likely desperate, inglorious one of trying to
keep old Anazeh sober.

Of course, the Koran forbids wine. But whiskey is not wine. And