“Don’t be a fool, Peter! I can’t tell him till I see him, can I? He’s here in St. John’s, isn’t he?”

“He’s in Montreal, and you know it!”

Nathaniel looked pained. “Don’t get so excited! I was told he’d be here; and even if he isn’t, it’s no farther to Montreal this way than by the St. Lawrence—that is, not much.”

He might easily, I knew, be stating the case correctly; for the St. Lawrence swings to the southward just above the mouth of the Richelieu River, and runs almost parallel with the Richelieu. Thus it is little shorter to travel direct from Three Rivers to Montreal than to travel by way of the Richelieu and St. John’s. I had heard, too, that Arnold was galloping all over the country trying to assemble enough supplies to feed his wretched remnant of a garrison in Montreal; so the rumor might indeed have got abroad that he was in this God-forsaken town.

“Now look here,” I said. “You knew Arnold’s headquarters were in Montreal, and that’s where you should have taken your information!”

Nathaniel made a contemptuous sound. “You can’t build this mole hill into a mountain, Peter! The information I’ve got isn’t worth much. Verrieul stayed down the river to hear more news; and we decided I’d better take back what we’d learned, just to show we were working.”

“Nathaniel,” I said, “I don’t want to see you make a fool of yourself. You’re supposed to obey orders, always. What would Arnold say if he found you hadn’t come direct to him?”

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders.

I looked at him straight. “Where were you going just now when I stopped you?”

“Where?” He laughed. “Why, I was hunting for Arnold.”

“Headquarters in this town,” I told him, “are in the square stone house you passed two hundred yards back. That’s where they are when there are any. What made you think you’d find Arnold down this way, provided you found him at all?”

Nathaniel made no answer.

“How did it happen you were laying your course with such assurance? If you’d asked any of our men, you’d have learned that De Woedtke’s supposed to be in command here, and you’d have learned his headquarters aren’t down this far. You haven’t come here to see Arnold at all, Nathaniel!”

Nathaniel stared at me. His eyes were hard. “I don’t know what call you’ve got to interfere with me!”

There was no question in my mind. He had learned Marie de Sabrevois was in Iberville, across from St. John’s, and he had come here to see her.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “I don’t propose to see my own brother shot for disobeying orders. Turn yourself around and set out for Montreal.”