"Not a word about you or Marion except that Marion was the king's
seventh wife. But he hinted at many things and kept me on the trail,
always expecting, always watching, and yet every hour was one of
mystery. I am in the darkest of it at this instant. What does it all
mean? Why are you going to kill Strang? Why--"
Neil interrupted him with a cry so poignant in its wretchedness that
the last question died upon his lips.
"I thought that the councilor had told you all," he said. "I thought you
knew." The disappointment in his voice was almost despair. "Then--it was
only accidentally--you helped us?"
"Only accidentally that I helped _you_--yes! But Marion--" Nathaniel
crushed Neil's hand in both his own and his eyes betrayed more than he
would have said. "I've got an armed ship and a dozen men out there and
if I can help Marion by blowing up St. James--I'll do it!"
For a time only the tense breathing of the two broke the silence of
their lips. They looked into each other's face, Nathaniel with all the
eagerness of the passion with which Marion had stirred his soul, Neil
half doubting, as if he were trying to find in this man's eyes the
friendship which he had not questioned a few minutes before.
"Obadiah told you nothing?" he asked again, as if still unbelieving.
"Nothing."
"And you have not seen Marion--to talk with her?"
"No."
Nathaniel had dropped his companion's hand, and now Neil walked to the
log and sat down with his face turned in the direction from which their
pursuers must come if they entered the swamp.
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