The Dark Star

Judge, then, of my shame and desperation--my anger at being entrapped

in a false position involving the loss in your eyes of my personal

honour!

It was unbearable: and I did what I could to make it clear to you that

I had not betrayed you. But my comrades do not yet know that I had any

part in it; do not yet understand why the ship was not blown to

splinters. They are satisfied that I made a mistake in the rendezvous.

And, so far, no suspicion attaches to me; they believe the mechanism

of the clock failed them. And perhaps it is well for me that they

believe this.

It is, no doubt, a matter of indifference to you how the others and I

reached safety. I have no delusions concerning any personal and kindly

feeling on your part toward me. But one thing you can not--dare

not--believe, and that is that I proved treacherous to you and false

to my own ideas of honour.

And now let me say one more thing to you--let me say it out of

a--friendship--for which you care nothing--could not care anything.

And that is this: your task is accomplished. You could not possibly

have succeeded. There is no chance for recovery of those papers. Your

mission is definitely ended.

Now, I beg of you to return to America. Keep clear of entanglement in

these events which are beginning to happen in such rapid succession in

Europe. They do not concern you; you have nothing to do with them, no

interest in them. Your entry into affairs which can not concern you

would be insulting effrontery and foolish bravado.

I beg you to heed this warning. I know you to be personally

courageous; I suppose that fear of consequences would not deter you

from intrusion into any affair, however dangerous; but I dare hope

that perhaps in your heart there may have been born a little spark of

friendliness--a faint warmth of recognition for a woman who took some

slight chance with death to prove to you that her word of honour is

not lightly given or lightly broken.

So, if you please, our ways part here with this letter sent to you by

hand.

I shall not forget the rash but generous boy I knew who called me Scheherazade.