I put my money on him, and I'm not going to worry him.

He's so dead certain in what he does, and what he is, that I don't lose any sleep guessing about him.

It will be funny if we do win out on this proposition--funnier than anything.
Now, there's one curious thing about it all which ought to be whispered, for I'm only guessing, and I'm not a good guesser; I guessed too much in Mexico about three railways and two silvermines.
The first two days after we came here, everything was all right.
Then there came an Egyptian, Halim Bey, with a handful of niggers from Cairo, and letters for Claridge Pasha.
From that minute there was trouble.

I figure it out this way: Halim was sent by Nahoum Pasha to bring letters that said one thing to the Saadat, and, when quite convenient, to say other things to Mustafa, the boss-sheikh of this settlement.

Halim Bey has gone again, but he has left his tale behind him.