"You know you'll get scuppered if you're found out!" Two days passed again without my seeing Grim, although I called on him repeatedly at the "Junior Staff Officers' Mess" below the Zionist Hospital.

Suliman, the eight-year-old imp of Arab mischief, who did duty as page-boy met me on each occasion at the door and took grinning delight in disappointing me.
He was about three and a half feet high--coal-black, with a tarboosh worn at an angle on his kinky hair and a flashing white grin across his snub-nosed face that would have made an archangel count the change out of two piastres twice.

Suliman and cool cheek were as obvious team-mates as the Gemini, and I was one of a good number, that included every single member of that unofficial mess, who could never quite see what Grim found so admirable in him.

Grim never explained.
Taking the cue from his master, neither did Suliman ever explain anything to any one but Grim, who seemed to understand him perfectly.
"Jimgrim not here.

No, not coming back.