“Before Sabit lies down,” I said, “I want to be taken to the House of Purification” (the Turkish name for lavatory). I signalled secretly to Hill to come with us. Bekir and Sabit got their rifles and marched us into the outer darkness. The Pimple remained behind. After we had gone a few paces I slipped an Indian rupee and a Turkish gold lira into Hill’s palm, and began singing. This is what I sang—
“It’s up to you to show them some tricks.
I’ll say it’s magic, you get them keen,
Then offer to show them one still more wonderful
If they’ll stand outside the door while you prepare.”
Hill squeezed my arm to show that he understood, and I turned to Sabit and asked for a Turkish song. He complied readily enough. By the time we got back to the room we were all singing together, except Hill. He went back to his corner and his Bible.
“That last tune of Bekir’s reminds me of one I heard from a witch doctor in Togoland,”[[49]] I said to the Pimple. “He was a great magician and held converse with djinns. Ask Bekir if he has ever seen magic.”
Bekir had often heard of magic and djinns, but had never seen any. Yes, he would like very much to see some, but where?
I pointed to Hill, huddled up in his corner, and told them he knew all the magic of the aborigines of Australia. I’d make him show us some, if they wished it. They were delighted at the idea. But Hill refused to oblige. He said magic was “wicked” and he had given it up.
“Shall I force him to do it?” I asked.