“Then we must lose no time,” she exclaimed suddenly. Leaving me, she crossed the harem, and took a sheet of paper and an ink-horn from a little cabinet inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, returning to where I was standing. Sinking upon her soft divan, she spread out the paper upon a little coffee-stool, and wrote in Arabic character the following:—
“O revered servant of Allah, learned and mighty, thou whose face is as a lamp unto those who walk in the darkness and in error stray from the path, unto thee I send salutation. The One Worthy of Praise made earth for a carpet, and it is written upon the tablet that Allah, Giver of Good Gifts, is the living One. May he who despiseth the revelation enter into the Companionship of the Left Hand, and dwell for ever in Al Sâhira. To seek an elucidation of the Great Mystery, the Roumi, into whose hands have I given the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, journeyeth afar unto thee. Know, O Friend, deadly peril surroundeth me. Of a verity the day hath come when the Great Secret may be revealed, for by its knowledge my life may be spared. Wherefore I beseech thee to grant him audience, and direct his footsteps into the valley of felicity, for assuredly mine enemies may be dumbfounded if thou wiliest.
“In fear have we flown into the refuge of patience, praying to the Answerer of our Supplications to grant us endurance. When our prayer for the Great Elucidation hath been responded to, the skirts of thine innocence shall be purified from the mire of suspicion, and—if it pleaseth Allah—by the blessing of thy devotions will our petition be heard, and from us will our affliction be removed. May the Beneficent Granter of Requests be gracious unto the Roumi and give him prosperity. Upon thee likewise be perfect peace. Sister.”
As she carefully penned the intricate lines, I noticed for the first time that across the back of her right hand—the hand that bore my ring—was a small red scar about an inch in length, and I silently wondered how it had been caused.
“There,” she exclaimed at last, as she appended with a flourish the characters “Okht” which apparently she used as her signature, “together with the Crescent of Glorious Wonders convey this my message to Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, the chief imam of the mosque at Agadez. He will understand my desire. Tell him that thou hast accompanied me unto the Shrine of Darkness, where I recovered the key to the hidden mystery, but that knowledge was, alas! not imparted to thee. He will then instruct thee how to act.”
“To Agadez?” I echoed, dismayed, remembering that it lay far south beyond the Great Sahara, with nearly two thousand miles of trackless and almost waterless wilderness between it and civilisation.
“Yes; I told thee that the only spot where knowledge can be given thee, and by which thou canst effect my rescue, was far distant. Dost thou fear to travel thither?”
I hesitated in uncertainty. Well I knew how tedious and perilous would be the long journey, for the hostility of the tribes through whose country I should have to pass constituted a terror even as great as the enormous difficulties and frightful hardships that I must encounter for many weeks, perhaps months, in the Great Sahara itself. But the earnest look of pleading in her splendid eyes decided me.
“I will go, Zoraida. If it is thy will, I shall start to-morrow,” I said.
“Thou wilt traverse the Great Desert for my sake—for my sake?” she exclaimed, kissing my hand as I took the missive she had folded. “When I named thee the Amîn I was not mistaken. Hadj Mohammed will be expecting thee.”