Deeply abashed, I lowered my head and answered with an affirmative nod. “In each of the foregoing instances to which I have referred,” said I in a tremulous voice, “I have directly beheld the visage of the sinister female intruder. This was true of last night’s atrocity as well, when—immediately following the appalling murder of Mrs. Nicodemus—the heartless assassin plucked off her mask in my presence. And I tell you, Colonel Crockett, that—while the countenance I beheld may not have constituted a precise mirror image of my own—nevertheless, in its overall mold, lineaments, and cast, the resemblance was so startling as to leave not the slightest doubt of her—or rather its—identity.

“Oh, Colonel Crockett!” I cried out. “I am sure of it! This inhuman killer is nothing less than the incarnated agent of my own darkest, most diabolical wishes, directed against those upon whom I wish to exact a fierce and bloody revenge!”

Having thus divulged the terrible secret with which my bosom had been fraught for so long, I buried my face in my hands and emitted an agonized sob that seemed to emanate from the bottommost depths of my being.

This wrenching outburst brought Crockett to his feet. Stepping directly before me, he extended his arms and clasped each of my shoulders with a firm and steadying hand. “Easy there, pard,” he exclaimed. “You are getting yourself all in a lather over nothing. Why, it don’t make a lick of sense. Why in the nation would you want to do harm to all them folks?”

“About this,” I moaned, “I can offer no more than the merest speculation, since my motives remain shrouded in obscurity, even to myself. It is evident, however, that the series of murders that commenced with the slaying of Mrs. Macready are in some still-unknown manner intertwined with the fate of my mother, Eliza. As you know, the sainted creature perished in the most wretched circumstances conceivable—friendless, alone, abandoned by all who professed to care about her. It may well be the case that these crimes were acts of long-overdue vengeance, perpetrated against those erstwhile admirers who—while deriving unparalleled pleasure from her histrionic genius—made no effort to assist her in her hour of direst need.”

His mouth wrought into a grimace of intense skepticism, Crockett shook his head and declared: “Poe, I don’t aim to be contrary—but I’m blessed if that ain’t the consarndest notion I ever struck! C’mon back to your chair and let’s study on this for a spell. I’ll wager dollars to doughnuts that there’s some other way of explaining what you seen.”

Acceding to the frontiersman’s proposal, I returned to the writing table and lowered myself into my seat. “But what other explanation can there possibly be?” I asked as Crockett resumed his place across from me.