“I’m here to look into the prospects for a school,” I said.

“Yes, yes.  Very estimable.  You shall have my support.”  He paused for me to fawn on him, and my neglect to do it spurred him to further self-revelation.

“You must look to me for support if you hope for success.  There is no cohesion here without me.  I am the only man in El-Kerak to whom they all listen, and even I have difficulty in uniting them at times.  But a school is a good idea, and under my auspices you will succeed.”

For the moment I thought he suspected me of wanting to teach school myself.  I hastened to correct the impression: 

“All I promise to do is to tell people in the States who might be interested.”

“Exactly.”  He had been coming at this point all along in his own way.  “So there is no hurry.  It makes no difference that you must stay in El-Kerak a little longer than you intended.  You shall be presented to the council of notables under my auspices.  In my judgment it is important that you remain here for some little time.”

I suppose the men who can analyze their thoughts, and separate the wise impulses from the rash ones, are the people whom the world calls men of destiny and whom history later assigns to its halls of fame.  The rest of us simply act from pique, prejudice, passion or whatever other emotion is in charge.  I know I did.  It was resentment.  It was so immensely disagreeable to be patronized by this puffy-eyed sensualist that I could not resist the impulse to argue with him.

“I don’t see the force of that,” said I.  “My plans are made to return to Jerusalem tomorrow.”

I could not have done better as it happened.  I suppose there is some theory that has been written down in books to explain how these things work, at any rate to the satisfaction of the fellow who wrote the book.  But Grim, referring to it afterward, called it naked luck.  I would rather agree with Grim than argue with any inky theorist on earth, having seen too many theories upset.  Luck looks to me like a sweeter lady, and more worshipful than any of the goddesses they rename nowadays and then dissect in clinics.  At any rate, by naked luck I prodded Abdul Ali where he kept his supply of mistakes.  Instead of calling my bluff, as he doubtless should have done, he set out to win me over to his point of view.  Whichever way you analyze it in the light of subsequent events, the only possible conclusion is that it was my turn to be lucky and Abdul Ali’s to make a fool of himself.  Nobody could have made a fool of him better than he did.

“I must dissuade you,” he said, trying to hide wilfulness under an unpleasant smile.  “I will offer inducements.”

“They’ll have to be heavy,” I said, “to weigh against what I have in mind.”

He had kept ben Nazir and me standing all this time.  Now he offered me one of the chairs, took the other himself, and motioned ben Nazir to a cushion near the window.  A servant brought in the inevitable coffee and cigarettes.  Then he laid a hand on my knee for special emphasis—­a fat, pale, unprincipled hand, with that great sapphire gleaming on the middle finger.