"No, massa."

"Oh, you're the black boy, Mr. Diggle's servant. Is your master in?"

"No, massa."

"Well, come down and open the door. I'll wait for him."

"Massa said no open door for nuffin."

"Confound you, open at once! He knows me; I'm a friend of his; open the
door!"

"Massa said no open door for nobody."

The farmer pleaded, stormed, cursed, but Scipio Africanus was inflexible.
His master had given him orders, and the boy had learned, at no little
cost, that it was the wisest and safest policy to obey. Finding that
neither threats nor persuasion availed, Burke took a stride or two in the
direction of home; then he halted, pondered for a moment, changed his
mind, and began to pace up and down the road.

His restless movements were by and by checked by the sound of footsteps
approaching. He crossed the road, stood in the shadow of an elm and
waited. The footsteps drew nearer; he heard low voices, and now discerned
two dark figures against the lighter road. They came to the inn and
stopped. One of them took a key from his pocket and inserted it in the
lock.