Beyond this was a cross-path that led to the outbarns and farm stables--a path bordered by thick bushes and which skirted a fence in the rear of the manor house itself.

Here he intended to tie his steed and there he would mount him again should his mission fail.
The dull winter sky had already heralded the dusk--it was near four o'clock in the afternoon--when he passed some hayricks where a group of negroes were at work.

One or two raised their heads and then, as if reassured, resumed their tasks.

This encouraged him to push on the nearer--he had evidently been mistaken for one of the many tradespeople seeking his father's overseer, either to sell tools or buy produce.
Tying the horse close to the fence--so close that it could not be seen from the house--he threw the bundle of silks over his shoulder and struck out for the small office in the rear.

Here the business of the estate was transacted, and here were almost always to be found either the overseer or one of his assistants--both of them white.