The air was thick with smoke already, and the draft from the broken windows wafted it about in streaky clouds.
Every face in the room was turned toward Anazeh.

I kept as much as possible behind him, for you can't look dignified in that setting if all you have on is a stained golf suit, that you have slept in.

It seemed all right to me to let the old sheikh have all the limelight.
But he knew better.

Perhaps my erstwhile host ben Nazir had understood a little German after all.

More likely he had divined Abdul Ali's purpose to make use of me.