The Judges of the Secret Court
“He was at the Bowling Green hotel, a large, deserted-looking building which only made these knocks on the door the louder and more ominous. He listened alertly, and heard voices. He could not hear what they said, but he recognized the feminine voice of his hostess. The other voices sounded Northern.
He looked towards the other bed, as he heard boots on the stairs. Mrs. Goldman’s son was in the other bed. He was badly wounded, but he was awake. He had been one of the last casualties of this ...endless war.
There was a knock at the door. “Willie, will you come to the door?” Mrs. Goldman sounded timid.
There was no escape. The door banged open and a Federal officer came in, nattier and better fed than any Confederate was these days. The yellow stripes down his blue pants leg glowed in the candlelight and wriggled like a snake. His boots gleamed. He had a gun in each hand. Willie looked at the candle and at the guns.MoreLess
He looked towards the other bed, as he heard boots on the stairs. Mrs. Goldman’s son was in the other bed. He was badly wounded, but he was awake. He had been one of the last casualties of this ...endless war.
There was a knock at the door. “Willie, will you come to the door?” Mrs. Goldman sounded timid.
There was no escape. The door banged open and a Federal officer came in, nattier and better fed than any Confederate was these days. The yellow stripes down his blue pants leg glowed in the candlelight and wriggled like a snake. His boots gleamed. He had a gun in each hand. Willie looked at the candle and at the guns.MoreLess
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