"In another hour, when the followers of Mohammed and the worshipers of Allah will be enjoying their deepest dreams."
The Jackal voiced a low laugh, and, despite his anxiety, Ali had to wonder. In the heart of Mecca, surrounded by thousands of Moslems and certainly with no hope of fighting his way clear, The Jackal could laugh as easily as though he were in a Druse stronghold. His companion was less assured.
"Speak gently," he cautioned. "Someone may hear!"
"Pouf!" The Jackal scoffed. "The Moslems hear nothing tonight save the hot wind that shall sing about their ears until they are once again safe in their homes. The city sleeps, Ahmet."
Ahmet said uneasily, "Some are always awake."
"Have you turned lily-livered?" The Jackal asked sardonically.
Ahmet answered, "I do not think so, but better a lily than a sword-pierced liver."
"Have I not planned well?" The Jackal demanded.
"One who can select thirty-four men, scatter them throughout a Moslem Hadj and bring all safely to Mecca, has planned as wisely as he chose men," Ahmet commented. "Just let there be no mistake at this late hour."
The Jackal said, "The only mistake of which we can be guilty now is in leaving this place without The Black Stone."