The officer spoke again.
"You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly, "where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers."
He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco.
Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little central courtyard round which the house was built.
It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there.
But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations at Tell Sandahannah.
It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of treachery.
He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against the wall.
It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best method to ensure a full confession.
He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts.