chieftain (all Kurds are chieftains away from home) to inspect a swollen fetlock. With that subtle flattery he unlocked the man's reserve, passed on from chance remark to frank, good-humored questions, and within an hour had talked with twenty men. At last he called to one of the Zeitoonli to come and scrape the yard dung from his boots, climbed the stairs leisurely, and sat beside us.
"You're quite right, Fred," he said quietly.
Then there came suddenly from out the darkness a yell for help in English that brought three of us to our feet. Fred brushed his fierce mustaches upward with an air of satisfaction, and sat still.
"There's somebody down there quite wrong, and in line at last to find out why!" he said. "I've been waiting for this. Sit down."
We obeyed him, though the yells continued. There came blows suggestive of a woman on the housetops beating carpets.
"D'you recollect the man I mentioned at the consulate—the biped Peter Measel, missionary on his own account, who keeps a diary and libels ladies in it? Well, he's foul of a thalakdar[1] from Rajputana, and of a Prussian contractor, recruiting men for work on the Baghdad railway. I wasn't allowed to murder him. I see why now—finger of justice—I'd have been too quick. Sit down, you idiots! You've no idea what he wrote about Miss Vanderman. Let him scream, I like it!"
"Come along," said Monty. "If he were a bad-house keeper he has had enough!"
But Will had gone before us, headlong down the stairs
- ↑ Punjabi word—landholder.
