At length—having reached a decision—I inhaled deeply and remarked: “There is one additional piece of information of which I have not yet apprised you, Colonel Crockett. Of its possible significance I myself remain in considerable doubt—though it may well have a direct bearing on the events which subsequently transpired.”

His brow furrowed in perplexity, Crockett said: “Great guns, Poe! You got me feelin’ exactly like Moses when the candle went out—plumb in the dark!”

Placing my arms upon the surface of the writing table, I leaned forward and proceeded to describe my encounter with the mysterious female figure who had appeared so unexpectedly in my chamber on the night of the fire. I elected, however, to make no mention of her extraordinary countenance, whose features had struck me as so startling, so uncanny, that—in my subsequent ruminations on the episode—I had come to doubt the reliability of my own perceptions.

Crockett took several moments to assimilate this singular narrative, all the while regarding me with narrowed eyes. At length, he shook his head and exclaimed: “Dad fetch it, Poe, but that don’t change mithin’! What you seen was more’n likely that ailin’ sister o’ Asher’s, who drug herself from her sickbed an’ wandered into your room by mistake. Or maybe it warn’t nuthin’ but your own imagination. I’ll be scalped with a jackknife if you weren’t downright obflusticated from all that liquor.”

“Conceivably so,” I acknowledged. “Indeed, I myself have considered both of these possibilities.”

“No sir,” said Crockett, rising to his feet. “There ain’t no doubt in my mind.” Settling his broad-brimmed hat onto his head, he thrust out his right hand and said, “Put ’er there, pard, for I will be leavin’ town presently.”

At that instant, from the threshold of my chamber, there emanated the distinct sound of a delicate foot stamping emphatically upon the floorboards, “But you can’t!” sang out a sweet, mellifluous voice in a tone of endearing protestation. “You promised!”

I directed my gaze at the source of this ejaculation, while Crockett swivelled to look in the identical direction. There, in the doorway of my room, stood my darling Virginia, her arms folded across her chest, her countenance arranged into an expression of the most charming petulance imaginable.

“Evenin’, Miz Virginny,” Crockett said, immediately doffing his hat again and favoring her with a small bow.

“You said that you would come and hear me sing!” my angelic cousin and wife-to-be retorted.

“Why, I plumb forgot,” Crockett conceded.

“How about now?” Virginia cried with enchanting impetuosity.