You can't begin at the beginning of a tale like this because its roots reach too far back into ancient history.
t in the way of repartee, and nearly starting a riot until Grim called Ali Baba into the dining-room, where de Crespigny was shaking up the second round of warm cocktails in a beer-bottle.
Ali Baba chose to presume that the mixture was intended for himself. The instant de Crespigny set the bottle on the table the old rascal tipped the lot into a tumbler and drank it off.
"It is good that the Koran says nothing against such stuff as this," he said, blinking as he set the glass down. "I have never tasted wine," he added righteously.
"Are the camels ready?" asked Grim.
"What sort are they? Mangy old louse-food, I suppose, that had been turned out by the Jews to die?"
"Allah! My sons have scoured Hebron for the best. Never were such camels! They are fit to make the pilgrimage to Mecca."
"I suppose that means that the rent to be charged for each old camel for a month is more than the purchase-price of a really good one?"
"The camels are mine, Jimgri