“Is Mrs. Surratt or John in?” Booth asked the pudgy youth who answered the door.
“John"s out of town, and Mrs. Surratt has taken to her bed. I"m Louis Weichmann.” He stuck out his hand, leaving Booth no choice but to shake with him.
“Good evening.” He didn"t bother introducing himself; he took it for granted everyone knew who he was.
“And you"re John Wilkes Booth.” Louis looked Booth up and down with a failed attempt at nonchalance; his awe and reverence were apparent. Booth had seen that look on many an admirer trying hard to conceal it. It was all in the lips that quivered just a tad too much. But in this portly fellow he detected an underlying resentment. It was in his tone; he was trying too hard to be cordial, and it came off as phony.
“I am. Give Mrs. Surratt my regards and I"ll
