The low, narrow door, constructed of three skillfully conjoined planks, slid into the wall on a pair of tracks. Gabe wondered if the bureau had been there from the beginning. It made sense, especially given that there was barely room for the furniture in any other arrangement. The concealment of the door wouldn't survive anything more than a cursory exam, but he could imagine situations where it might have been overlooked.

Gabe opened the drapes to let in more light and switched on the bedside lamp. Then, with extreme care, he hooked two fingers into a north–south groove that had been carved into the right-hand margin of the door and pulled. The door slid across into the wall with surprising ease, revealing a dark, somewhat dusty space, about eight feet square, with a packed red clay floor. There were three rough-hewn benches against the walls, an old straw broom, a wooden water bucket and ladle, and a second, larger bucket with a cover, which Gabe surmised was to aid in the disposal of bodily waste.

There was no source of light, but if someone stood back from the doorway, enough flowed in from the guest room to illuminate most of the space. Three of the four walls were constructed of the same packed red clay as the floor. The fourth, to Gabe's left, was some sort of rough-hewn wood panel. That was all there was to it—a way station for slaves, virtually unchanged for over 160 years.

Frustrated, Gabe turned to leave, then turned back to be certain he hadn't left any telltale footprints. The heels of his boots had, in fact, made several gouges in the earthen floor. The rest of the floor had been brushed smooth, possibly with the old broom.

Careful not to track clay back into the small guest room, he pulled his boots off and set them aside. Then he got down on his knees and was smoothing out the defects when he noticed small bits of loose clay around the bases of the legs of the bench leaning against the paneled wall. It appeared as if the bench had been dragged forward and then pushed back again.

He crawled cautiously to the bench and pulled it toward him. It was fixed to the wall, with just enough space at one end to admit his fingers. A stronger pull and an invisible low doorway opened on almost invisible hinges, revealing a tunnel, similar to the room itself, supported every ten yards or so by upright railroad ties and a crossbeam. The tunnel was quite dark but was faintly lit from somewhere in the distance. Electing not to put on his boots, Gabe crossed the small chamber with one step and entered the tunnel with the next.