Oliver walked leisurely to the door, closed it softly behind him, and ran upstairs into his mother's arms.
Malachi whispered to Grant, and the two disappeared in the shadows. At the same moment a bolt shot back in a gate in the rear of the yard—a gate rarely unbolted. Old Hannah stood behind it shading a candle with her hand. Malachi led the way across the yard, through the green door of Richard's shop, mounted the work-bench, felt carefully along the edge of a trap-door in the ceiling, unhooked a latch, pushed it up with his two hands, the dust sifting down in showers on his head, and disclosed a large, empty loft, once used by the slaves as a sleeping-room, and which had not been opened for years.
Assisted by the negro's arms, Grant climbed to the floor above, where a dim skylight gave him light and air. A cup of hot coffee was then handed up and the door of the trap carefully fastened, Malachi rumpling the shavings on the work-bench to conceal the dust, No trace of the hiding-place of the fugitive was visible.
When Malachi again reached the front hall, it was in response to someone who was hammering at the door as if to break it down. The old man peered cautiously out through the small panes of glass. The sidewalk was crowded with men led by Colonel Clayton, most of them carrying guns. They had marched over from Clayton's house. Among them was a posse of detectives from the Police Department.
In answer to their summons Richard had thrown up the window of his bedroom and was talking to Clayton, whose voice Malachi recognized above the murmurs and threats of the small mob.
"Come down, Horn. Oliver has proved traitor, just as I knew he would.
He's been hiding one of these damned Yankees all day. We want that man,
I tell you, dead or alive, and we are going to have him."
When the door was flung wide Clayton confronted, not Richard, but
Oliver.
"Where's that Yankee?" cried Clayton. He had not expected to see
Oliver. "We are in no mood for nonsense—where have you hidden him?"
Malachi stepped forward before Oliver could answer.
"Marse Oliver ain't hid him. If you want him go hunt him!"