No sooner had these syllables passed the frontiersman’s lips than my entire frame was seized with an uncontrollable shudder. My limbs trembled—my heart quaked—my brain swam. I leapt from my seat and—in a voice that quickly rose to a shriek of wild desperation—cried out: “But he is correct! It is all true! Oh, do you not see, Colonel Crocked? It is I—and I alone—who am the murderer!”

The effect of these words upon Crockett may be easily imagined. He appeared absolutely dumbstruck. For some minutes he remained speechless and motionless, regarding me with an open mouth and eyes that seemed to start from their sockets. Before he could recover from this state of tongue-tied stupefaction, the heavy tread of approaching footsteps could be heard outside my room—the door to my chamber flew open—and in burst Muddy, her plain yet endearing countenance contorted into an expression of intense anxiety.

“Is something the matter, Eddie?” she worriedly exclaimed, her large, work-chapped hands clasped before her bosom. “I thought I heard the most fearful scream!”

Through an exertion of will-power that fell nothing short of the heroic, I managed to arrange my trembling lips into a reassuring (if somewhat thin and sickly) smile. “Everything is perfectly fine, Muddy dear,” I replied in what I hoped was a convincingly earnest tone. “Colonel Crockett and I were merely rehearsing the tragic events of last evening.”

For several moments, Muddy continued to study my visage with a look of the deepest concern. At length—as though vanquishing whatever lingering doubts she possessed as to the absolute veracity of my assertion—she emitted a sigh of relief and cast her gaze downward at our visitor. “And how are you this morning, Colonel Crockett?”

“Fair to middling,” came the frontiersman’s dispirited reply. He shook his head slowly from side to side several times, then looked up at Muddy and inquired: “What about Miz Virginny? Is the gal feeling better?”

“She is much improved, having just re-awakened from a long and restful nap,” replied Muddy. “I really must get back to her. May I bring you boys something to eat before I go?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” said Crockett. “All these pestiferous doings has put me a mite off my feed.”

Having only recently partaken of her excellent porridge, I, too, declined Muddy’s considerate offer—at which point she excused herself and departed from the room. No sooner had the door closed behind her than Crockett turned to me and, fixing me with a stern and penetrating gaze, declared: “Now, Poe. I reckon you’d best tell me just what in the blue blazes you meant by that outlandish speech of yours, for I’ll be shot if it ain’t hit me like a clap of thunder on a bright, sunshiny day.”