No part of the walls was less than three feet thick, although the upper story had been rebuilt rather recently on a more economical and much less dignified scale.
Nevertheless, there was a sort of semi-European air about the place, helped out by two casemented projections overhanging the narrow street.
There was no need to announce ourselves.

The clatter of hoofs and shouts to ordinary folk on foot to get out of the way had done that already.

Sheikh ben Nazir opened the door in person.
His welcome to me was the sort that comes to mind when you read the Bible story of the prodigal son returning from a far-off country.

I might have been his blood-relation.

But perhaps I am wrong about that; bloodfeuds among blood-relations are notoriously savage.