The other day I went to his tent to wait for him, and I saw his Bible open on the table.

A passage was marked.

It was this: "Behold, I have taken out of thy hand the cup of trembling, even the dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again: But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; which have said to thy soul, Bow down, that we may go over; and thou hast laid thy body as the ground, and as the street, to them that went over." I'd like to see Nahoum with that cup of trembling in his hand, and I've got an idea, too, that it will be there yet.

I don't know how it is, but I never can believe the worst will happen to the Saadat.
Reading those verses put hope into me.

That's why I'm writing to you, on the chance of this getting through by a native who is stealing down the river with a letter from the Saadat to Nahoum, and one to Kaid, and one to the Foreign Minister in London, and one to your husband.