The Washington times., 1911-06-04
CHAPTER VIII. =
The Prisoner in the Armory.

II
years of age. but his face was
stricken TO premature soberness, and
his brown eyes explored the wall be-
fore him with that brooding intensity
which looks at something the mind has
con1ured up, not at material surround
'ings.
On the back of the chair hung a gray
blouse, discarded. for the day was sultry
and no breeze was stirring in the room.
He wore clean white linen shirt some
what trayed; gray military pantaloonS,
ana dllapldated boots. In spite of his
poor attire, however. he had the marks
of good breeding. His hair was fine and
dark, his features delicate. almost girl
lsh except for the slight mustache
which darkeped his upper lip, and his
hands were small and shapely.
A cot. chair. and a pine table COM
pleted the furnishing of the little room.
unless might be added a badly soiled
calendar for the year 1853, ssued by a
IRE insurance company, with a spirited
picture of a tire-engine and galloping
horses, which was tackled on the wall.
The door stood ajar, obviously that the
young man might be kept under surveil-
lance, for in the large. unfurnished loft
outside three or four ragged Richmond
militiamen had spread a blanket on the
floor and were playing cards One SOL
der sat on nail key at the doorway,
and kept his musket across his knees,
taking no part in the game except to
offer an occasional comment
Shucks, Hank" said he in disgust.
You couldn't BLUM a freckIed Niger
BABY; Why didn't you raise him."
Which l wishes 10 announce, gentle
men" Grawled a triumphant voice, Il
got them three lovely Jacks"
Heaving a weary sigh. the youthful
prisoner lounged over to his window,
where he leaned with his elbows on the
sill and stared out istlessly. His prison
was the upper story of an engine house,
appropriated for an armory; and the
window was high enough 10 afford a
wide prospect of roofs, chimneys, stee-
Piles. and brick walls to where the wood
ed ChtmborazO heights shut in the view.
Very little traffic disturbed the dusty
streets that lay cleaning under the hot
afternoon sun. An empty dray crawled
past toward Rockets, the slow mule half
asleep, a negro, with slack lines, fully
So A few pedestrians went up and
down the sidewalks. careful to keep in
quarter of the town was submerged in
a drowsy quiet, broken only by the
coughing of strenuous locomotives on
Broad street, and the whir and rumble
of the Tredegar iron works.
Far up in the unClouded blue sky d
buZzard hung like a black speck. Pig
cons were Circling hither and thither,
and the prisoners wistful gaze followed
them. When one alighted on the caves
above his head. he leaned out TO look
al it,
glance down at him suspiciously. The
quick smile that gladdened his face then
was good to see. He tried to coax the
pigeon with few crumbs, and II APP
peared not disinclined to come to him.
So intent was he on this amusement
that he failed to notice silence that
had fallen in the outer loft. till long
Iimoed corporal touched him on the
shoulder.
Captain Coombs, there's a lady wants
to see you. She's got n permit"
ITO see me-" A lady? Wait" Quite
snatched up his blouse. drew II on, and
began hurriedly to button il. What
does she look like?' he demanded dur
ing the process. rs she tall and fair?''
mo, stree! She's a little thing about
so high" The long corporal held his
proval sounded in his voice. "A little
lady with big black eyes. Say. Did you
ever see them kind of eyes that make
you want 10 tear UP the old marriage
license and drop the old woman into the
ash bari? Well. she's got 'em. Oh. l
don't favor them big, tow-headed wom=
en-. nowhow. None of EN- can touch
this little queen.
Enough" said Coombs. It's my sis
ter Bring her to me, please"
At the door the corporal added, rather
apologetically. glancing over the piece
of paper in his hand:
The instructions on the permit says
! must stay in the room endurtn' the
entire interview, observing and hearing
everything that takes place, and moth
ing in the shape Of writing or other
article shall pass between prisoner and
visitor
A few moments later there was a
tender cry at the doorway, and Della
ran in and was clasped in her brother 6
arms.
very brave and cheerful, to give him
courage. But nature yielded instantly
She burst into a passion of weeping on
his shoulder. and he stood holding her
saving many brief words of love and
tenderness, as a man does When strong
ly moved. The long corporal, who under
his rude exterior, was a sentimental
individual. a scene-shifter at one of the
local theaters, ignored his instructions
looked out of the window snuffing, and
did not turn around until she was dry
ing her tears.
edge of the cot, and when they had sal
the first tumultuous silence out, Floyd
asked:
How did you get permission to come
to me. Biddy?'
II was the pet name their father had
given her; and the homely old word
Slipping unconsciously from the boys
lips, brought up a sudden rush of mem
cries that almost overpowered hel
again. but she choked book her sobs
"From President Davis himself. dear
He was very, very kind, and regretted
the strictness of your confinement. They
were afraid you might send message!
toto"
I'm not guilty." the young Officer
OF course you aren't. Floyd! Non'
of us believed that of you! Why, Cncl'
Philip, feeble as he is, was going t.
fight the editor of the Examiner, onl!
the editor wouldn't accept his chal
| lenge."
Laughter touched the prisoners lip
at that.
Continuation of This Story VIII b
Found in TOmOrrOwrs Issue