With the Arabs in Jerusalem
227
"Yes, while it is running warm from his body," Ali affirmed.
"Okay,
I'll
take
the
pictures.!"
What else could I say?
A HUNTING PARTY
THAT night Ali, Moustafa, Captain Zaki, Faris, and a dozen
others participated in a party to which I was invited. Ali afternoon the Arabs had been carting in clothing and furniture.
Toward evening, Captain Zaki sent for me. Accompanied by
two of the gang we walked for several hundred yards until we
came to a home in a clump of trees. Household goods were
piled high in the doorway. The doors had been smashed open.
Inside, I found the boys going through the drawers, sounding
the walls and floor.
"This was the house of a Jew," Captain Zaki said. "We want
you to look at this photograph equipment and tell us what
it's worth."
From a drawer he fished out odd accessories, worth only a
pound or two.
"Whose home was it?" I asked curiously.
"We don't know. It's the house of a Jew," Captain Zaki
repeated. "Now we want you to go through his books and
papers and tell us if he was a spy."
The library was in shambles, with books strewn everywhere.
Many were in German and French, a few in Hebrew. There
were also numerous phonograph records and art albums. The
Arabs looked at them, tore out some pages, threw down the
rest, and stamped on them. The owners had obviously been
scholars of some sort. In a pile of papers kicked into a corner,
I found my first clue, a stack of calling cards: "Dr. Albert K.
Henschel, Dr. Elizabeth Henschel-Simon." Rummaging
around, I found an envelope addressed to "Mrs. Simon