Andrews But suddenly I heard the distinct clip-clopping of boots down the corridor outside my doors. I heard what sounded like the rattle of a saber, too. They grew louder and closer. Curious, I sat up just as my door was opened and Paul stepped through, dressed in a Confederate officer's uniform, sword at his hip. He wore a fake sweet-potato red Vandyke beard as well, and he carried a package under his right arm. The costume and the beard fit him so well that for a moment I didn't know who it was. Then I smiled. "Paul! Where did you get all that?" "Pardon, madame," he said, and took off his hat to make a sweeping, graceful and elegant bow. "Colonel William Henry Tate at your service." He scowled. "I was just informed that some Yankees had invaded your privacy and caused you some consternation. I'll need a full report before I send my troops after the scoundrels, who, I promise you, will be swinging in the wind under the old oak before sundown. "Now," he continued, straightening into a formal military posture and running his left forefinger over his mustache, "if you will just be so kind as to give my adjunct their descriptions .
