It was soon after darkness had set in—a darkness helped by a drizzling rain which had begun in the afternoon—when two men in long dusters and with large caps pulled over their eyes crept through the shrubbery at the back of the Milmarsh mansion and moved along the stone foundation wall, as if looking for something.
“Here it is, Chick. Howard Milmarsh, the father, showed it to me once when we were walking through the grounds. It’s the hole through which they used to take the colored people so that they could keep them in safety till they could be sent up State and over the border into Canada.”
“It was part of the ‘underground railroad’ in slavery days, I suppose?”
“Yes. The Milmarsh who lived here seventy years ago was an abolitionist, and his wife was particularly enthusiastic in trying to help negroes to escape from the South. It’s a good thing for us now. Come along!”
The hole that Nick had discovered in the stone foundation wall was about four feet square, and was covered by a wooden board on which composition had been placed, so that it looked like the stones all about it. Only one who knew where to look would be likely to discover that there was any break at all in the wall.
The disguised board was easily removed by pressing a secret spring.
“Get in, Chick. Enter feet first. Sit down and let yourself go.”
“I may get a hard bump,” protested the young man.
“No, you won’t. I promise you that,” replied his chief.