CHAPTER XIII
THE RUNNING PILL
THE adroitness with which these Arabs produced other Arabs amazed the Colonel; it was like rubbing the magic lamp for a jinn to appear. This newest acquisition, scrawnier and somewhat darker than the others, was a Dongalawi, and his name was Said. Like Mahomet, Said possessed letters. In fact he produced the same letters. When Said unfolded them the first name to catch the Colonel's eye was "Theophilus Warwine of Chicago, III." "Here," he said, "this is the same letter that Mahomet"
Immediately Said and Fudl joined their voices in a duet of explanation—"Said's wife had made the mistake—true it is, Excellency"
Said snatched up the package and darted out, winging his way like a bat through the lights, and dodging into the darkness. Breathless he came to the coffee house of Selim, where Mustafa, the dragoman, was playing at draughts. Said threw down his letters: "Mustafa, give me quickly other letters" A fair exchange is no rob-
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