Neil gazed at him in astonishment.
"Obadiah told—you—nothing?" he asked incredulously.
"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?"