It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code--a precious volume which great commercial houses all over the world would have paid great sums to see, which the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided to his emissary. Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a collection of letters and figures to be momentous in the history of Christendom. These were the words: "_The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn. All suspicions confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and Schuabe. You will find full confirmation from the Greek foreman of Society explorations, Ionides. Get statement of truth by any means, coercion or money to any amount. All is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home, special steamer if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your evidence. We trust in you. Hasten._ "MANICHOE." He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code. It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted for many years! The eager helper! The traitor bought by Llwellyn! It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A caravan, camels, guides, must be found for a start to-morrow. It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must be made with speed, and it was four days, five days away. He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of Hippicus. A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a domed building, with pillars of red stone and a glittering roof, surmounted by a golden crescent. Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was passing by when a tall, white-robed figure bowed low before him. A voice, speaking French, bade him good-day. The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him his name and business. It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at the museum in the morning. The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been to the Consul's private house with the keys. This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides. Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim follow him. CHAPTER VI UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM The night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in the huge hollow sapphire of the sky. Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of one of the two little tents which composed his caravan. Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed, had volunteered to act as dragoman. In a few hours this man had got together the necessary animals and equipment for the expedition to Nabulûs. Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite breed, Ibrahim a Damascus bay. The other men, a cook and two muleteers, all Syrians of the Greek Church, rode mules. The day's march had been long and tiring. Night, with its ineffable peace and rest, was very welcome. On the evening of the morrow they would be on the slopes of Ebal and Gerizim, near to the homestead of the man they sought.