in Palestine; the idea being to force the
British to make common cause with them. That would mean total
defeat for the Arabs; and Great Britain would save France scads
of men and money. But you pulled that plug. I saw you do it. I
heard Abdul Ali of Damascus tell you Scharnhoff's name. Did you
go after Scharnhoff?"

"No, not yet," he answered. "You're no diplomat."

I knew that. I have never wished to be one, never having met a
professional one who did not, so to speak, play poker with a cold
deck and at least five aces. The more frankly they seem to be
telling the truth, the more sure you may be they are lying.

"Neither are you," I answered. "You're a sportsman. Are you
allowing Scharnhoff weight for age, and a fair start--or what?"

He chuckled. "You believed old Abdul-Ali of Damascus? He's a
French secret political agent. So whatever he told us is
certainly not true. Or, if it is true, or partially true, then
it's the kind of truth that is deadlier deceptive than a good
clean God-damned lie. Get this: such men as Abdul Ali would
face torture rather than betray an associate--unless they're sure
the associate is a traitor or about to become one. A government
can't easily punish its own spies on foreign territory. But by
betraying them, it can sometimes get the other government to do
it. That Abdul Ali betrayed Scharnhoff to me, proves one of two
things. Abdul Ali was lying, and Scharnhoff harmless--or in
some way Scharnhoff has fallen foul of his French paymasters
and they want him punished. Very likely he has drawn French
money, for their purposes, and has misused it for his own ends.
Or perhaps they have promised him money, and wish to back down.
Possibly he knows too much about their agents, and they want
him silenced. They propose to have us silence him. I'm going
to call on Scharnhoff."

"You suspect him of double treachery?"

"I suspect him of being a one-track-minded, damned old
visionary."

I had met Hugo Scharnhoff. Long before the War he had been a
professor of orientology at Vienna University. At the moment he
was technically an "enemy alien." But he had lived so many years
in Jerusalem, and was reputed so studious and harmless, that the
British let him stay there after Allenby captured the city. A
man of moderate private means, he owned a stone house in the
German Colony with its back to the Valley of Hinnom.

"Care to come?" Grim asked me.

"Yes."

"Know your B