"What's that?" he asked pointing toward it.

"Grub," replied Neil. "Hungry?"

He went to the table and got the plate of food. There were chunks of boiled meat, unb.u.t.tered bread, and cold potatoes. For several minutes they ate in silence. Now that Nathaniel was himself again Neil could no longer keep up his forced spirits. Both realized that they had played their game and that it had ended in defeat. And each believed that it was in his individual power to alleviate to some extent the other's misery. To Neil what was ahead of them held no mystery. A few hours more and then--death. It was only the form in which it would come that troubled him, that made him think. Usually the victims of this dungeon cell were shot. Sometimes they were hanged. But why tell Nathaniel? So he ate his meat and bread without words, waiting for the other to speak, as the other waited for him. And Nathaniel, on his part, kept to himself the secret of Marion's fate. After they had done with the meat and the bread and the cold potatoes he pulled out his beloved pipe and filled it with the last sc.r.a.ps of his tobacco, and as the fumes of it clouded round his head, soothing him in its old friendship, he told of his fight with Strang and his killing of Arbor Croche.

"I'm glad for Winnsome's sake," said Neil, after a moment. "Oh, if you'd only killed Strang!"

Nathaniel thought of what Marion had said to him in the forest.

"Neil," he said quietly, "do you know that Winnsome loves you--not as the little girl whom you toted about on your shoulders--but as a woman?

Do you know that?" In the other's silence he added, "When I last saw Marion she sent this message to you--'Tell Neil that he must go, for Winnsome's sake. Tell him that her fate is shortly to be as cruel as mine--tell him that Winnsome loves him and that she will escape and come to him on the mainland.'" Like words of fire they had burned themselves in his brain and as Nathaniel repeated them he thought of that other broken heart that had sobbed out its anguish to him in the castle chamber. "Neil, a man can die easier when he knows that a woman loves him!"

He had risen to his feet and was walking back and forth through the thick gloom.

"I'm glad!" Neil's voice came to him softly, as though he scarcely dared to speak the words aloud. After a moment he added, "Have you got a pencil, Nat? I would like to leave a little note for Winnsome."

Nathaniel found both pencil and paper in one of his pockets and Neil dropped upon his knees in the mud beside the table. Ten minutes later he turned to Nathaniel and a great change had come into his face.

"She always seemed like such a little child to me that I never dared--to--tell her," he faltered. "I've done it in this."

"How will you get the note to her?"

"I know the jailer. Perhaps when he comes to bring us our dinner I can persuade him to send it to her."

Nathaniel thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers dug into Obadiah's gold.

"Would this help?" he asked.

He brought out a shimmering handful of it and counted the pieces upon the table.

"Two hundred dollars--if he will deliver that note," he said.

Neil stared at him in amazement.

"If he won't take it for that--I've got more. I'll go a thousand!"

Neil stood silent, wondering if his companion was mad. Nathaniel saw the look in his face and his own flushed with sudden excitement.

"Don't you understand?" he cried. "That note means Heaven or h.e.l.l for Winnsome--it means life--her whole future! And you know what this cell means for us," he said more calmly. "It means that we're at the end of our rope, that the game is up, that neither of us will ever see Marion or Winnsome again. That note is the last word in life from us--from you.

It's a dying prayer. Tell Winnsome your love, tell her that it is your last wish that she go out into the big, free world--away from this h.e.l.l-hole, away from Strang, away from the Mormons, and live as other women live! And commanded by your love--she will go!"

"I've told her that!" breathed Neil.

"I knew you would!"

Nathaniel threw another handful of gold on the table.

"Five hundred!" he exclaimed. "It's cheap enough for a woman's soul!"

He motioned for Neil to put the money in his pocket. The pain was coming back into his head, he grew dizzy, and hastened to the bench. Neil came and sat beside him.

"So you think it's the end?" he asked. He was glad that his companion had guessed the truth.

"Don't you?"

"Yes."

There was a minute's dark silence. The ticking of Nathaniel's watch sounded like the tapping of a stick.

"What will happen?"

"I don't know. But whatever it may be it will come to us soon. Usually it happens at night."

"There is no hope?"

"Absolutely none. The whole mainland is at the mercy of Strang. He fears no retribution now, no punishment for his crimes, no hand stronger than his own. He will not even give us the pretense of a hearing. I am a traitor, a revolutionist--you have attempted the life of the king. We are both condemned--both doomed."

Neil spoke calmly and his companion strove to master the terrible pain at his heart as he thought of Marion. If Neil could go to the end like a martyr he would at least make an attempt to do as much. Yet he could not help from saying:

"What will become of Marion?"

He felt the tremor that pa.s.sed through his companion's body.

"I have implored Winnsome to do all that she can to get her away,"

replied Neil. "If Marion won't go--" He clenched his hands with a moaning curse and sprang to his feet, again pacing back and forth through the gloomy dungeon. "If she won't go I swear that Strang's triumph will be short!" he cried suddenly. "I can not guess the terrible power that the king possesses over her, but I know that once his wife she will not endure it long. The moment she becomes that, her bondage is broken. I know it. I have seen it in her eyes. She will kill herself!"

Nathaniel rose slowly from the bench and came to his side.

"She won't do that!" he groaned. "My G.o.d--she won't do that!"

Neil's face was blanched to the whiteness of paper.

"She will," he repeated quietly. "Her terrible pact with Strang will have been fulfilled. And I--I am glad--glad--"

He raised his arms to the dripping blackness of the dungeon ceiling, his voice shaking with a cold, stifled anguish. Nathaniel drew back from that tall, straight figure, step by step, as though to hide beyond the flickering candle glow the betrayal that had come into his face, the blazing fire that seemed burning out his eyes. If what Neil had said was true--

Something choked him as he dropped alone upon the bench.

If it was true--Marion was dead!

He dropped his head in his hands and sat for a long time in silence, listening to Neil as he walked tirelessly over the muddy earth. Not until there came a rattling of the chain at the cell door and a creaking of the rusty hinges did he lift his face. It was the jailer with a huge armful of straw. He saw Neil approach him after he had thrown it down.

Their low voices came to him in an indistinct murmur. After a little he caught the sound of the c.h.i.n.king gold pieces.

Neil came and sat down beside him as the heavy door closed upon them again.

"He took it," he whispered exultantly. "He will deliver it this morning.

If possible he will bring us an answer. I kept out a hundred and told him that a reply would be worth that to him."