“She contrived the introduction to Noureddin Ali.  Innocent old Scharnhoff, who is an honest thief—­he wouldn’t steal money—­ sacrilege is Scharnhoff’s passion—­was an easy mark for Noureddin Ali.  Noureddin Ali is a red-minded devil, so smart at seeing possibilities that he is blind to probabilities.  He is paid by the French to make trouble, and he’s the world’s long-distance double-crosser.  I don’t believe the French have any hand in this job.  Scharnhoff needed explosives.  Noureddin Ali saw at once that if that tunnel can be found and opened up there could be an atrocity perpetrated that would produce anarchy all through the East.”

“As bad as all that?” asked Mrs. Davey.

“That’s no exaggeration,” Goodenough answered.  “I’ve lived twenty-five years in India, commanding Sikh and Moslem troops.  The Sikhs are not interested in the Moslem religion in any way, but they’d make common cause with Moslems if that place were blown up and the blame could be attached to Jews.  It’s the second most sacred place in Asia.  Even the Hindus would be stirred to their depths by it; they’d feel that their own sacred places were insecure, and that whoever destroyed them would be protected afterwards by us.”

“Gosh!  Who’d be an Englishman!” laughed Davey.

“I don’t see that it’s proved yet that the idea of an explosion wasn’t Sharnhoff’s in the first place,” Goodenough objected.

“For one thing, he wouldn’t want to destroy antiquities,” said Grim.  “They’re his obsession.  He worships ancient history and all its monuments.  No, Noureddin Ali thought of the explosion.  He knew that Scharnhoff needed money, so he gave him French money, knowing that would put old Scharnhoff completely in his power.  Then he tipped off some one down at Ludd to watch for a chance to steal some TNT.  He had better luck than he expected.  He got two tons of it.  He didn’t have all the luck, though.  His plan, I believe, was to time the fireworks simultaneously with a French-instigated raid from El-Kerak.  But the raid didn’t come off.”

“Scharnhoff will hang!” said Goodenough.

“I think not, sir.  He’ll prove as meek as an old sheep when we land on him.”

“There, will the bags do?” asked Mrs. Davey.

“What are they for?” Goodenough asked.

“We’re supposed to have a slush fund in this room of a hundred thousand dollars,” Davey answered dourly.  “My Oil Company is supposed to be buying up Mustapha Kemal!  I see my finish, if news of this ever reaches the States—­or unless my version of it gets there first!”

Grim turned to me.

“We’ve got to find two people to take your place and mine in the car tomorrow morning.  Perhaps you’d better go in any case; you’ll enjoy the ride as far as Haifa—­stay there a day or two, and come back when you feel like it.  We’ll find some officer to masquerade as me.”

But there I rebelled—­flat, downright mutiny.