for succour to the enemy's camp, I fear it would be all over with the
bargain for which Anthony and I are selling our souls. T. Slaney says
he never shall know. He guarantees that Cook labels and other telltale
marks shall be removed from everything, though time is short and there
is much to do. He will be the power behind the tents, and I will be in
them, absorbing all the credit.

_Saturday_: All _couleur de Rose_, thanks to Slaney. Should like to get
him canonized. Many less worthy men, now deceased, have been given the
right to put Saint before their names. He has handed me a list,
something less than a mile long, of articles which Biddy and I, as
children, used to call eaties and drinkies. He has told me where the
things can be bought, and has written a letter of introduction which
secures me "highest consideration and lowest prices." Also he has
suggested a medicine-chest, packs of cards, the newest games,
cigarettes suited to European and Arab tastes, picture post-cards of
desert scenes; ink, pens, and writing paper. "People forget everything
they want on these trips, but you mustn't," said he. I have acted on
all his suggestions, and feel as proud as if I had originated them
myself.

_Sunday:_ My precious friend Slaney has made a large collection of
Arabs, camels, tents, etc., and ordered everything, animate and
inanimate, to assemble in the neighbourhood of Mena House this
afternoon, in order to be inspected by me, and to be ready for a start
early to-morrow morning. We are to have a sandcart with a desert horse
for Cleopatra, who has tried a camel and found it wanting. I fancy she
thinks a sandcart the best modern substitute for a chariot; and at
worst, it ought to be as comfortable. Slaney has promised a yellow one
--cart, not horse. The horse, by request, is to be white. The other