Having lent himself unwillingly to the trick, he did his utmost to make it succeed, like a good sport.

He stuck his head out of a bedroom window.
"Don't forget, now, to send me those rugs from Damascus!" he shouted.
It all went like clockwork.

Glancing back as we drove by the Jaffa Gate I saw the three spies walk away, and there is very often more information in men's backs than in their faces.

They walked like laborers returning home with a day's work behind them, finished; not at all like men in doubt, nor as if they suspected they were followed, although in fact they were.

Three Sikhs emerged from the corner by the Gate and strolled along behind them.