Washington City
Mary Surratt"s servant was busy in the kitchen, so she answered her own door. Gaping at the sight before her, she dropped her rosary beads on the threshold. Her visitor knelt down to retrieve them. He handed them to her and they stood. Her eyes roved over him, from his spit-shined boots, silver spurs, fawn breeches, and matching velvet jacket to his lustrous hair, silky moustache, and glittering eyes. She gasped, nearly dropping her beads again, this time out of sheer amazement. No, it couldn"t be.
“Good day, ma"am.” He gave a polite bow and removed his hat. “I"m John Wilkes Booth.”
Time stopped.
Is this a dream? Mary asked herself as they faced each other. What is a famous actor doing at a middle-aged woman"s shabby boardinghouse? After several blinks to make sure she
