That's your field!" Feisul smiled with the air of a man who recognizes but is unconvinced.
"There are always things that might have been," he answered.

"As it is, I cannot desert the army." "We'll save what we can of the army," Grim answered.

"Your Syrians will save their own skins; it's only the Arabs we've got to look out for--a line of retreat for the Arab regiments, and another for you.

It's not too late, and you know I'm right! Come on; let's get busy and do it!" Feisul's smile was all affection and approval, but he shook his head.
"If what you say is true, I should only have the same problem in Mesopotamia--foreign financiers," he answered.
"That's exactly where you're wrong!" Grim retorted triumphantly.
He stood up, and pointed at Jeremy.
"Here's a man who owns a gold-mine.

It lies between Mesopotamia and your father's kingdom of the Hedjaz, and its exact whereabouts is a secret.