We would, and he led the way to a Mohammedan eating-house in which we were served several savory messes by an unkempt Islamite, who wiped his hands, after tossing charcoal on his fire or scooping up a plate of food, on his fez, and chewed betel-nut as he worked, spitting perilously near to the open pots. The meal over, the Eurasian called 409a “cab.” It was a mere box on wheels, about four feet each way, and had no seats. When we had packed ourselves inside, the driver imprisoned us by slamming the air-tight door, and we jolted away.I held my peace and listened intently for any word that might indicate our whereabouts. None came, but the setting sun brought relief, and falling darkness found my thirst somewhat abated. The motion of the ship lacked the pitch of the open sea. I resolved to take no chances with victory so close at hand.