A lean figure walked into a Southern hotel, in the latter part of February, confronted the clerk, who surveyed him dubiously. His suit, shabby and worn as thin as paper, had obviously been made by an inferior tailor; his shirt was old and very dirty; and, in spite of the fact that his face had not been shaved for several days, the clerk could tell at a glance that it was not the countenance of an aristocrat. Before addressing the hotel employe, he respectfully removed from his...
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