since writing down for your benefit, o my reader, all this long tale that i heard in the tavern by the sea i have travelled in algeria and tunisia as well as in the desert. much that i saw in those countries seems to throw doubt on the tale that the sailor told me. to begin with the desert does not come within hundreds of miles of the coast and there are more mountains to cross than you would suppose, the atlas mountains in particular. it is just possible shard might have got through by el cantara, following the camel road which is many centuries old; or he may have gone by algiers and bou saada and through the mountain pass el finita dem, though that is a bad enough way for camels to go (let alone bullocks with a ship) for which reason the arabs call it finita dem—the path of blood.

i should not have ventured to give this story the publicity of print had the sailor been sober when he told it, for fear that he i should have deceived you, o my reader; but this was never the case with him as i took good care to ensure: "in vino veritas" is a sound old proverb, and i never had cause to doubt his word unless that proverb lies.

if it should prove that he has deceived me, let it pass; but if he has been the means of deceiving you there are little things about him that i know, the common gossip of that ancient tavern whose leaded bottle-glass windows watch the sea, which i will tell at once to every judge of my acquaintance, and it will be a pretty race to see which of them will hang him.

meanwhile, o my reader, believe the story, resting assured that if you are taken in the thing shall be a matter for the hangman.