you in good stead. For, if you feel led
to it, I should suggest that you adopt that Syrian costume I once saw
you in. This course would have many advantages, for while you could
the more readily mix with the people, and obtain _entree_ often where
you otherwise could not, your identity as representative of 'The
Courier,' would not be made known.

"I am not sure, George, but that if you presented yourself as our
representative, that all kinds of obstacles might not be put in the way
of your obtaining information, or, more likely, in transmitting it.
You might even be quietly put out of the way. Spare no expense, dear
boy, where other men spend five pounds, spend a hundred, if it will
serve us better."

For a time the two men held deep consultation. Then when they gripped
hands in parting, each commended the other to God.

George Bullen started for the East next afternoon. His stock of
Eastern garments was full and varied, and not one Eastern in a million
would have known him from a Syrian native.

CHAPTER VII.

"THE MARK OF THE BEAST."

George Bullen was no stranger to Jerusalem, yet it was a strange
Jerusalem that met his sight as he entered it by the Jaffa gate. For
interest, picturesqueness, even amusement, there is no time so rich as
at early morning, at the Jaffa gate.

Bullen had been perfectly familiar, in the old days (eight years ago)
with the scene, but there were differences this morning. The long
strings of donkeys and camels, laden to within the proverbial "last
straw" and led by foul-smelling, unkempt Bedouins were there, as usual,
in spite of the fact that railways now ran in every direction. Eastern
women, robed in their loose blue cotton wrapper garments--sleeping, as
well as day attire--were there in galore, only now all of them walked
unveiled, whereas, in the old days, most of them were veiled.

Pilgrims from every land were pouring into the city. The cafes were
crowded. The aroma of strong black coffee was often _fortunately_,
stronger than the less pleasant odours of the insanitary streets.

Early as it was, the money changers were doing a stirring trade.
Water-carriers moved about with their monotonous cry of "_moyeh_,"
supplemented, in some cases, by the same word in English--"_Water_."

Market garden produce, the finest in the world, and now proving how
literally Palestine, under the fertilizing power of the "_latter_
rain," had become "a fruitful garden," was piled e