"I will tell you all I know," I said, "and if you will allow me to go to my tent, I will fetch you a translation of what I believe to be a true document relating to the famous mare, which your father captured from the Shammar."
"You astonish me beyond measure," said the sheik; "be pleased to go and bring the paper."
At that moment the thud of horses' hoofs broke the stillness of the night air, and, thinking that it meant a night attack, I turned to the sheik, who stepped out in front of his tent, and shouted a few words in a deep voice. An answer came back out of the darkness, and then Faris explained to me that the horsemen were those of his party whose duty it had been to lay a false scent for the Turkish police to follow, and who had ridden into camp by a circuitous route.
"For years," said he, "we have done the same thing. On reaching the nullah, some of us go one way and some another. The Turkis fear to follow either party, knowing that if once they enter the nullah, they are liable not only to be ambuscaded by one party but to be taken in rear by the other party. But they are simple folk these town-bred Turkis, and in driving us as far as the nullah, they consider that they have done their duty. So they return to their coffee-houses to drink their coffee and tell their companions how they encountered the Bedouins, and defeated them. Yet, to-morrow, if we wished, we could ride in and pillage half the villages on the outskirts of Hillah. However, the ways of these Turki dogs are of no interest to either you or me, for I know, from my many friends in Baghdad, what you Englishmen think of them. Let us talk again of our horses, and let me hear what you know of Kushki's ancestors."
I went off to my tent, and returned with my note-book, when the sheik took me into his private apartment, and motioned me to a seat on a pile of soft cushions. I showed him the sketch of Shahzadi's shoe, and he at once commented on the eight nail holes. Then I turned to my copy of the document, which, re-translating into Arabic, I read out to my host. He was deeply moved, and drank in every word that I uttered, nodding his head as I concluded each sentence, and vouchsafing that what I said was true. When I came to the last line I hesitated for a second—from excitement, I suppose—but, recovering, I translated leisurely, "The man bore away the serpent belt of pure gold coveted by the desert tribes."
"Quite true," said the sheik. "Everything that you have read is true. But now tell me, was it indeed an accident that brought you and your friend the Hakim to our tents?"
The question came so suddenly, that I confess it quite staggered me. But I felt that the man with whom I was dealing was upright and honest, and I decided that I would meet him on his own ground, and risk the consequences. I stood up and met his gaze.
"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza," I said, "I am an Englishman, and, I trust, a man of honour. Believe me, that in accepting your hospitality, I had no intention of deceiving you. I waited only for an opportunity to speak to you, and that opportunity has now come. It was no accident that brought us to your tents."
I then explained fully the nature of my mission, and how I hoped to be able to obtain from him some information about the Golden Girdle. He listened attentively, and without showing any sign of displeasure. At last he took my hand in his, and spoke solemnly and quietly.
"Friend and honoured guest," he said, "you have spoken to me straightforwardly, and straightforwardly shall I always deal with you. Stay with us as long as you will, and you shall be welcome, but take my advice, and abandon all idea of possessing that accursed belt of gold. Did you but know the havoc that it wrought among the tribes ere it disappeared, you would let it lie for ever in its resting-place. If you would hear more of it, then to-morrow will I tell you what I know, and willingly. To-night we have already talked late."