I tried him again. I said that liquor taken in quantity would
kill a man.

"So will one bullet!" he answered. "But, whereas a bullet in the
belly causes pain before death, moiyit ilfadda (aqua fortis)
causes pleasure; and a man dies either way."

He turned to go, rattling two rifle-butts against the door, but I
had one last try to get on terms and said I hoped to see him at
breakfast, or shortly afterward.

"God is the giver both of eyesight and the things to see," he
answered. "I go to pray. God will guide my footsteps afterward."

I did not feel I had really made much headway, but I fared rather
better with my host downstairs, who either did not pray with such
enthusiasm or else had forestalled the muezzin. At any rate, he
was waiting for me near a table spread with sweet cakes and good
French coffee. After the usual string of pleasantries he became
suddenly confidential, over-acting the part a little, as a man
does who has something rather disagreeable up his sleeve that
he means to spring on you presently.

"I have been busy since an hour before dawn. I have been
consulting with my friend Suliman ben Saoud. The situation here
is very serious. As long as you are my guest you are perfectly
safe; but if I were to send you away, the assembled notables
might suspect you of being a spy, and might accuse me of
harbouring a spy. Do you see? They would suppose you were
returning to Jerusalem with information for the British. That