“He is an infernal villain.”
“Hush!” said Somers, finding his companion was becoming a little too emphatic for safety. “I must find a place to stow you away.”
In the back room of the house, which was only a shed attached to the rear of the building, Somers found a large closet, which seemed to be a kind of lumber room. In this he bestowed his companion, and rolled a large chopping-block up before the door. While he was engaged in this operation, the door leading from the kitchen into the shed opened, and an old black woman rushed out, apparently deeply moved by some circumstance which Somers had no difficulty in understanding. She had a light in her hand, which at once revealed to her the presence of a stranger upon her own peculiar territory.
“De Lo’d!” exclaimed she, starting back with alarm.
“Silence, aunty! Don’t speak again,” said Somers, in a low tone.
“Gracious! Dat’s Massa Riggleston!” added she, shrinking back.
The scout had put on the great coat and feathered hat of the major, which seemed to explain the terror of the woman.
“Where are you going, aunty?”
“For de doctor,” said she; “but if you be de ghost ob Massa Riggleston, ’taint no use for de doctor, for de major must be dead.”
“No matter what I am, aunty. Come with me.”