"What's all this?"
The doctor knew that if he could keep the men back a very few moments Patty would hide Abe, for he was sure that his wife had made some plan with her. So he turned to Mr. Mason and said, "It's very likely, Tom, that I have a fugitive slave here, isn't it?"
But before Mr. Mason could answer, Dimmock said, "We knew you were here, Mr. Mason, and we're sorry to disturb you, but there are some people in Wellfield that keep the laws, and that nigger's been traced here, and we're bound to have him."
Mr. Mason laughed, but showed that he was very indignant, and he told Mr. Dimmock shortly that it was scarcely likely that Dr. Miller would conceal a fugitive slave under the same roof with a slave-owner, especially when that owner was his guest. But of the nice laws of hospitality Mr. Dimmock was quite unconscious, and the doctor didn't care what anybody said if they could only gain a little time. Mr. Dimmock said afterwards that the doctor was in a white rage, but he was quite mistaken; it wasn't rage at all, but a great variety of conflicting emotions.
As soon as Patty left the room she flew to the store-room, and said, in a whisper, "Abe, follow me quick. They're after you. Be very still."
He was terribly frightened, but long habit made him absolutely obedient, and he crept up the back stairs like a cat. They crept through the front hall, the voices plainly heard below, and Patty showed him how to lift the trap in the closet floor.
"This is your master's room," she whispered. "Don't even breathe loud, or you'll be heard. I'll let you out when it's safe. I don't believe you'll have to stay all night." Then she fitted the trap down carefully, lifted the light trunk over it, picked up her uncle's shoes and put them down softly as if they had been thrown in, dropped a soiled collar and handkerchief from the bureau, and then closed the door softly. Long in the telling, it had not taken three minutes. Then she ran down stairs.
"Show Mr. Dimmock and his friends about," said her father; "take them everywhere, Patty."
Patty took a lamp, and Mr. Dimmock said, "Give me another. I always carry my own light. People have a way of throwing shadows in the wrong places. The garret first." And when they got there he held his lamp high, casting its light into every dark corner. "What's that?" he said, pointing to a dark pile.