Adventure Magazine Cover — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Tne King stoop forward from the shoulders due to thoughtfulness and camel-riding and a genuine intention not to hold his head too high, he looked like a shepherd in a Bible picture, only with good humor added, that brought him forward out of a world of dreams on to the same plane with you, face to face—understanding meeting under- standing—man to man. I wish I could describe his smile as he entered, believing he was coming to meet Lawrence, but it can’t be done. Maybe you can imagine it if you bear in mind that this man was captain of a cause as good as lost, hedged about by treason and well aware of it; and that Colonel Lawrence was the one man in the world who had proved himself capable of bridging the division between East and West and making possible the Arab dream of independence. But unhappily it’s easier to record un- pleasant things. He knew at the first glance—even before she drew back the kuffiyi—that Mabel wasn’t Lawrence, and I’ve never seen 2 man more disappointed in all my wanderings. The smile didn’t vanish; he had too much pluck and self- control for that; but you might say that iron entered into it, as if for a second he was mocking destiny, willing to face all odds alone since he couldn’t have his friend. And he threw off disappointment like a man—dismissed it as a rock sheds water, coming forward briskly to shake hands with Grim and bowing as Grim introduced us. ‘“‘Mt least here are two good friends,” he said in Arabic, sitting down between Grim and Hadad. “Tell me what this means, and why you deceived us about Lawrence.”’ “We've something to show you,” Grim answered. ‘Mrs. Ticknor brought it; otherwise it might have been seen by the wrong people.” Feisul took the hint and dismissed the Syrian officers, calling them by their first names as he gave them “leave to go.”’ Then Mabel produced the letter and Feisul read it, crossing one thin leg over the other and leaning back easily. But he sat forward again and laughed bitterly when he had read it twice over. “T didn’t write this. I never saw it be- fore, or heard of it,” he said simply. “T know that,” said Grim. “But we thought you’d better look at it.” Feisul laid the letter across his knee and paused to light a cigaret. I thought he was in Check 53 going to do what nine men out of ten in a tight place would certainly have done; but he blew out the match,and went on smoking. ““You mean your government has seen the thing, and sent you to confront me with it?” It was Grim’s turn to laugh, and he was jubilant, without a trace of bitterness. “No. The chief and I have risked our jobs by not reporting it. This visit is strictly unofficial.”’ Feisul handed the letter back to him, and it was Grim who struck a match and burned it, after tearing off the seal for a memento. “You know what it means, of course?” Grim trod the ash into the carpet. “If the French could have come by that letter in Jerusalem, they’d have Dreyfussed you— put you on trial for your life on trumped-up evidence. They’d send a sworn copy of it to the British to keep them from taking your part.” “T am grateful to you for burning it,” Feisul answered. He didn’t look helpless, hopeless, or be- wildered, but dumb and clinging on, like a man who holds an insecure footing against a hurricane. “It means that the men all about you are traitors,’ Grim went on. “Not all of them,” Feisul interrupted. “But many of them,” answered Grim. “Your Arabs are loyal hot-heads; some of your Syrians are dogs whom any one can hire. It was straight speaking. From a major in foreign service, uninvited, to a king, it sounded near the knuckle. Feisul took it quite pleasantly. “T know one from the other, Jimgrim.”’ Grim got up and took a chair opposite Feisul. He was all worked up and sweating at self-masterv, hotter under the collar than I had ever seen him. “It means,” he went on, with a hand on each knee and his strange eyes fixed steadily on Feisul’s, “‘that the French are ready to attack you. It means they’re sure of cap- turing your person—and bent on seeing your finish. They’ll give you a drum-head court martial and make excuses after- ward,” “Tnshallah,” F¥eisul answered, meaning ‘af Allah permits it.” “That is exactly the right word!’ Grim exploded; and Lord, he was hard put to it to keep excitement within bounds. I could see his neck trembling, and there MICLOOOKS (C@