All at once, I realized with an inward start that this exceedingly noble-looking gentleman was none other than Mr. Rembrandt Peale himself, whose visage was familiar to me from the handsome self-portrait displayed in the foyer of the museum, where I had contemplated it on earlier visits. After introducing myself to this eminent personage with a deferential bow, I gently inquired as to the identity of the victim.

“His name is Joshua Hutchins,” Mr. Peale sorrowfully replied. “He served for many years as my trusted caretaker.” Then, in a voice fraught with both outrage and grief, he added: “Why this atrocity has befallen the old fellow I cannot, for the life of me, conceive, for—so far as I know—he was without an enemy in the world.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” I inquired.

“At around noon today. I had come to the museum in search of a certain item—a tricornered hat originally belonging to the great Dr. Franklin, which I had promised to loan to the governor, who wished to put it on temporary display at his mansion. Unable to locate it—and prevented from conducting a more extensive search by a pressing lunchtime engagement—I asked Mr. Hutchins if he would, at the earliest opportunity, see if he could uncover it among the miscellaneous items kept down here in the basement.”

“This dreadful act of butchery, then,” I mused aloud, “occurred sometime during this very afternoon.”

It was Captain Russell who replied to my observation. “That is correct,” said he, peering at me intently. Then, after pausing briefly—as though reluctant to broach a matter that must, of necessity, prove deeply unpleasant—he said: “Forgive me, Mr. Poe, but I am obliged to inquire as to your own whereabouts earlier today.”

Having been fully apprised by Colonel Crodkett of the police captains suspicions regarding my involvement in the crimes, this query scarcely came as a surprise. Before I could formulate a reply, however, the frontiersman—who had, by this point, stepped up beside me—turned to Russell and declared: “He was within spitting distance of me the whole time. I told you you was barking up the wrong tree! Why, ol’Poe here ain’t got no more harm to him than a hornet with a busted tail”

Visibly abashed at the frontiersman’s testimony, Captain Russell regarded me with a chastened expression and addressed me thusly: “I beg your forgiveness, Mr. Poe. It is true, as Colonel Crockett suggests, that I had come to regard you as a possible suspect. I see now that I have been utterly mistaken.”