"I remember, Sahib."
"It is such magic as that. There is none but Muhammed Din I might safely trust to close the mouth of such a rogue; therefore, Muhammed Din"—the eyes of white sahib and Moslem fakir again looked into each other—"I am sending you on the mission. I asked you to come as a fakir because I judged that to be your best disguise. You have come as a Haj, which is even better. I do not want this impostor killed, if it can be helped. I want him exposed, discredited. I send you, Muhammed Din." He looked at him with significance as he added:
"You may find an old acquaintance."
The fakir stroked his long beard.
"He shall be brought to you riding backwards upon an ass, and the women shall mock at him' Sahib. I swear it."
The Political Officer smiled.
"None can if you cannot, Muhammed Din. Now I will explain these things to you more fully."
The Political Officer spread a map across the table and pointed out the route of the German agent across the Persian frontier and among the hills. His present abiding-place was fairly accurately known. The pseudo-fakir attentively considered the ways to it. Then he drew himself erect.
"It is well, Sahib. I will now go."
"You have a plan, Muhammed?"