"Well, there's the letter; be careful with it, and run-run-run like a good boy! A whole bottle of rum when you come back—think of it! A whole bottle of nice brown rum to yourself in that nice little room where your bed is! There, goodbye!"
The creature addressed as Francois vanished, with a snort and a sort of squeal that may have been meant for speech. "That is the best messenger in Syria," said Rene. "He is priceless—incorruptible, silent, and as sure as Destiny! The French General Staff will have that letter before dawn. Now—what next?"
"You come with me," I answered.
He felt better now that the message was on its way; second thought convinced him of my connection with the French. There is no more profitless delusion than to suppose that a country's secret agents are always its own nationals. They are almost always not.
If the French used only Frenchmen, Germany used none but Germans, Great Britain only Englishmen, and so on, it might be prettier and easier for the police, but intelligence departments would starve. So there was nothing about an obvious American doing spy-work for the French that should stick in his craw; and that being so, the more cheerfully he aided me the better it would likely be for him.
So he called for the servant again, and proved himself a good campaigner by superintending the packing of a big basket with provisions—bread and butter, cold chicken, wine, olives, and hot coffee in a thermos bottle.
"The French will be in Damascus by noon tomorrow," he said. "Ha-ha! Those French and their hungry Algerians! We do well to take a good provision with us—enough for two days at least. We shall enter with them, I suppose, or at least behind them, and of course my house here will receive consideration; but—ha-ha!—how many chickens do you believe will be purchasable in Damascus one hour after the first Algerians get here? Eh? Put in another chicken, Hassan, mon brave. Eh bien, oui—pack the basket full; put in more of everything!"
At last he got into an overcoat lined with fox-pelt, for the night air was chilly and an overcoat is less trouble than blankets if you expect to spend a night on the move. We hove the huge basket into the waiting auto, slammed the front door of the house behind us, piled into the back seat and were off.
"I shall be glad when this business is over," said Rene, with a sigh of satisfaction. "I am a banker by profession. For me the ebb and flow of trade, with its certainties and its discretions. But what would you? Trade must be prepared for; doors that will not open must be forced; those who stand in the way must be thrust aside. This Feisul is an impossible fellow. He is a hypocrite, I tell you—one of those praters about righteousness who won't understand that the church and the mosque are the places for that sort of thing. Eh? You follow me? But tell me, what has been done to Daulch, Hattin and Aubek? Were they backed against a wall and shot? Who betrayed them? Too bad that such a plan should fail, for it was perfect."
"Far from perfect," I answered; for that one piece of strategy I have by heart—the way to make a man tell all he knows is to pretend to superior knowledge.