He stood for a moment in the darkness of the vault, clinched his fist at last and exclaimed:
“I’ll do it!—but I prefer the front door. I’ll try that first.”
A few minutes later he had reached the house, knocked loudly and stood waiting an answer.
Aunt Julie Ann’s black face smiled him a hearty welcome.
“Come right in, Marse John, honey, an’ make yo’ sef at home. I sho is glad ter see ye!”
John walked deliberately across the hall and sat down on the old mahogany davenport under the stairs behind which he knew the secret door opened. He reached back carelessly, played with the spring and felt it yield.
Aunt Julie Ann’s huge form waddled after him. “Fore I pass de time er day I mus’ tell ye Marse John, what de Jedge say. He give ‘structions ter all de folks dat ef any Graham put his foot ter dat do’ ter tell ‘im he don’t low you inside dis yard! I tell ye, so’s I kin tell him I tell ye—Cose, I can’t help it dat you brush right pass me an’ come in, can I, honey?”
“Of course not, Aunt Julie Ann.”
Her big figure shook with suppressed laughter. “De very idee er me keepin’ Mammy’s baby outen dis house when I carry him across dis hall in my arms de day he wuz born! An how’s all de folks, Marse John?”
“About as usual, thank you, Aunt Julie Ann. How are you?”