Dear Miss Thurland,You will remember me, I think, even if only as a poor space-bum dragged by the heels from the Nergal Sea, on Mars, just outside Vulhan City. You were kind to give me money, twenty credits.You may remember I told you the money would be for t'ang. It wasn't, however, nor has it been spent at all. You showed me what I was, Miss Thurland, and I didn't like the picture.Notice of receipt will come to you, perhaps before this letter, that a parcel has been deposited in your name at the Foundation in New Yatt. It is the fortune I found in the desert. I know you would not accept such a gift from me, so please believe me I do not intend it as a gift, nor even as a payment for the credits you gave me. One cannot repay things like that, even with the parcel at the Foundation.It is pure Vadirrian oil, petrified, valued at more than one hundred and eighty thousand credits. I am sure you realize how valuable, far more than in mere credits, this find can be. It will give new life to hundreds of stricken people suffering the strange disease we transmit between the planets with this new commerce.You spoke of my ex-steward, Nancy Bertrand. We can do nothing for her now, buried on Io, but because you were her friend, I would ask you to set up the fund as a memorial to her, to train nurses and stewards for the space-runs and to insure that girls as fine as she are given the chance she made for herself to go out into the world and do work as important as hers. I know that is not too much to ask of you, Miss Thurland. Your own expenses for the transaction are included in the fund. Because I may not return to Earth, now or ever, I have taken the liberty of imposing this bequest on you, knowing that, as you loved Nancy, it will give you pleasure to insure her some fitting memorial.Any reply will reach me if addressed to Captain B. Bannerman, Superintendent of Patrol, Vulhan City, Mars. Again, let me thank you. My life is worth little to myself or others, but you gave me back my self-respect.I shall hope to see you again one day, should you visit beyond the moon.Sincerely,Geofrey Thorne.
Dear Miss Thurland,
You will remember me, I think, even if only as a poor space-bum dragged by the heels from the Nergal Sea, on Mars, just outside Vulhan City. You were kind to give me money, twenty credits.
You may remember I told you the money would be for t'ang. It wasn't, however, nor has it been spent at all. You showed me what I was, Miss Thurland, and I didn't like the picture.
Notice of receipt will come to you, perhaps before this letter, that a parcel has been deposited in your name at the Foundation in New Yatt. It is the fortune I found in the desert. I know you would not accept such a gift from me, so please believe me I do not intend it as a gift, nor even as a payment for the credits you gave me. One cannot repay things like that, even with the parcel at the Foundation.
It is pure Vadirrian oil, petrified, valued at more than one hundred and eighty thousand credits. I am sure you realize how valuable, far more than in mere credits, this find can be. It will give new life to hundreds of stricken people suffering the strange disease we transmit between the planets with this new commerce.
You spoke of my ex-steward, Nancy Bertrand. We can do nothing for her now, buried on Io, but because you were her friend, I would ask you to set up the fund as a memorial to her, to train nurses and stewards for the space-runs and to insure that girls as fine as she are given the chance she made for herself to go out into the world and do work as important as hers. I know that is not too much to ask of you, Miss Thurland. Your own expenses for the transaction are included in the fund. Because I may not return to Earth, now or ever, I have taken the liberty of imposing this bequest on you, knowing that, as you loved Nancy, it will give you pleasure to insure her some fitting memorial.
Any reply will reach me if addressed to Captain B. Bannerman, Superintendent of Patrol, Vulhan City, Mars. Again, let me thank you. My life is worth little to myself or others, but you gave me back my self-respect.
I shall hope to see you again one day, should you visit beyond the moon.
Sincerely,Geofrey Thorne.
An hour or so later, Vulhan City only a dim glow of light in the evening sky behind him, Thorne was walking quietly along the beach.
There was someone waiting for him on the low headland beyond which lay his own particular cove where he had spent so much and so unworthily the time lying heavily on his hands.
The Martian, Hanu, his grizzled whiskers blowing about his wizened, elfish face stood alone, an armed man.
"I have returned, Hanu."
"It was not to return you left this cove," the Martian replied, sternly. His great round eyes were fixed on the other.
"My debt is paid, Hanu."
"Money will not repay. Can your gold buy back, your honor, or ours?"
"I did not repay in gold, friend, but in the golden oil your ancestors left us all—the Vadirrian. I bought opportunity and happiness for many others with its price. For myself, you see me as I am. I have nothing else. I return as I left, a derelict."
A slow, wise smile crept over the Martian's wrinkled monkey-face. He pulled at his whiskers. Then he linked arms with the ex-pilot. "Come, friend Thorne. You have paid the debt. Let us go down to the village and see what the women have laid for the evening meal. We shall welcome you...."