“Here,” said my friend, “let me write my address for you.” While Saied was scribbling his name on a scrap of paper, I heard the rumbling of the bus as it lurched to a stop outside the building.

“May Allah grant you a good journey,” said the old man.

“And may He grant you prosperity and peace,” said Saied, as he hurried out to the bus.

I waited about three minutes. Now it was my turn. I stood up and staggered a couple of steps. I had a lot of trouble walking in a straight line. I could see the shopkeeper glaring at me in disgust. “The hell do you want, you filthy beggar?” he said.

“Some water,” I said.

“Water! Buy something or get out!”

“Once a man asked the Messenger of God, may Allah’s blessings be on him, what was the noblest thing a man may do. The reply was ‘To give water to he who thirsts.’ I ask this of you.”

“Ask the Prophet. I’m busy.”

I nodded. I didn’t expect to get anything free to drink out of this crud. I leaned against his counter and stared at a wall. I couldn’t seem to make the place stand still.

“Now what do you want? I told you to go away.”

“Trying to remember,” I said peevishly. “I had something to tell you. Ah, yes, I know.” I reached into a pocketof my jeans and brought out a glittering round stone. “Is this what that man was looking for? I found this out there. Is this — ?”

The old man tried to snatch it out of my hand. “Where’d you get that? The alley, right? My alley. Then it’s mine.”

“No, I found it. It’s—”

“He said he wanted me to look for it.” The shopkeeper was already gazing into the distance, spending the reward money.

“He said he’d pay you money for it.”

“That’s right. Listen, I’ve got his address. Stone’s no good to you without the address.”

I thought about that for a second or two. “Yes, O Shaykh.”

“And the address is no good to me without the stone. So here’s my offer: I’ll give you two hundred dinars for it.”