"Start something before they're ready for it!" Just before the train started, a handsome fellow with short black beard trimmed into a point and wearing a well-cut European blue serge suit, but none the less obviously an Arab, came to the door of our compartment and stared steadily at Grim.

He stood like a fighting man, as if every muscle of his body was under command, and the suggestion was strengthened by what might be a bullet scar over one eye.
If that fellow had asked me for a loan on the spot, or for help against his enemies, he would have received both or either.

Moreover, if he had never paid me back I would still believe in him, and would bet on him again.
However, after one swift glance at him, Grim took no notice until the train was under way--not even then in fact, until the man in blue serge spoke first.
"Oh, Jimgrim!" he said suddenly in a voice like a tenor bell.
"Come in, Hadad," Grim answered, hardly glancing at him.

"Make yourself at home." He tossed a valise into the rack, and I gave up the corner seat so that he might sit facing Grim, he acknowledging the courtesy with a smile like the whicker of a sword-blade, wasting no time on foolish protest.
He knew what he wanted--knew enough to take it when invited--understood me, and expected me to understand him--a first-class fellow.

He sat leaning a little forward, his back not touching the cushion, with the palms of both hands resting on his knees and strong fingers motionless.
He eyed Mabel Ticknor, not exactly nervously but with caution.
"Any news ?" asked Grim.
"Jimgrim, the world is full of it!" he answered in English with a laugh.
"But who are these ?" "My friends." "Your intimate friends ?" Grim nodded.
"The lady as well ?" Grim nodded again.
"That is very strong recommendation, Jimgrim!" Grim introduced us, giving Jeremy's name as Jmil Ras.
"Hah! I have heard of you," said Hadad, staring at him.