I waited for a moment to let the import of my discovery sink in. Following a protracted pause during which his expression underwent a most striking change, from utter bafflement to burgeoning doubt to unmitigated skepticism, Captain Russell shook his head and declared, “Well, Mr. Poe, this is most intriguing, indeed. I must confess, however, that your so-called empirical evidence seems excessively slight when measured against the overwhelming proof of Neuendorf’s savage nature. I refer not merely to the man’s intimidating—nay, terrifying—demeanor, but also to the vicious threats he is reported to have made against Mrs. Macready. To say nothing of the furious resistance he offered when confronted with the prospect of arrest.”

“I concede that Neuendorf is a being of singularly unprepossessing aspect,” I replied. “But surely we cannot judge the man’s culpability by his grim, even ghastly, appearance. As for his threats, while unquestionably deplorable, they scarcely constitute ‘overwhelming proof’ of his guilt. Nor does his fierce opposition to Colonel Crockett, which may, indeed, be interpreted in the very opposite light—to wit, as the indignant defiance of an innocent man.”

“Until that innocence is established beyond the shadow of a doubt,” the captain said stubbornly, “I will persist in regarding him as the most plausible suspect in this case—with all due respect to your ingenious suppositions, Mr. Poe!”

However lamentable, such obstinacy on the part of a mere functionary like Captain Russell was only to be expected. I was in the process of formulating a reply when my attention was distracted by the resounding clump of bootsoles upon the wooden planks of the dock. Gazing in the direction of the noise, I saw Colonel Crockett advancing towards us in long, purposeful strides. At his side, her right arm linked with his left, was the brazen young woman to whose simperings the frontiersman had quite dearly succumbed.

“Why, Cricket,” he called out, “have you drug Captain Russell all the way out onto this-here jutty jest so you kin chaw his ear off?”

This impertinent salutation deserved, at the very least, a stinging riposte. Before I could deliver one, however, the captain let out a chuckle and exclaimed, “Our friend Mr. Poe is not chewing my ears off at all, Colonel Crockett. He is, however, filling them with speculations of a most dubious order.”

“I reckoned as much,” laughed Crockett, coming to a halt directly before us. Draped across his left arm was the jacket he had discarded prior to his battle with Neuendorf. The injury he had received to the upper part of that limb was now bound with an embroidered lace handkerchief whose owner, I surmised, was the personage presently clinging to his opposite arm.

“Captain,” said Crockett, extending his meaty right hand, “I come to bid you good-bye. My friend Miss Mule Lady here—”

“Mullany,” interjected the young woman with a sweet, if somewhat brittle, smile.