Mrs. Medwin was a troublemaker, a black-hearted old woman who took the highest degree of pleasure in simply perturbing those who dwelt around her. The day following Katrina's sudden flight, my superiors sent me to her home in order to intercept some anticipated devilment; since I had made no promise to Katrina concerning my avoidance of Mrs. Medwin, I encountered not even the slightest shame while making my way to her home. After all, some personal matters badly needed clearing up; and she would help me in so doing.
Mrs. Medwin's house was located some distance away from the city; one rarely even saw her, save on days when she ran out of all the goods she purchased occasionally and thus was disposed to go forth into society. The narrowest of pathways led to her home; it was near overgrown with all sorts of plants, rendering it impossible for me and Masbath to travel by carriage.
When we stood before her moss-covered door at last I was quite out of breath and rather exhausted. Hesitating, I pondered what evils could possibly greet me once I made myself known to Mrs. Medwin. This led me to wondering at just what had driven my Katrina to leave so unexpectedly; she was a girl of high intellect, not driven to hasty actions. Whatever Mrs. Medwin had revealed to her, it must have been truly terrifying!
Arriving at this conclusion, I turned around swiftly.
"Masbath," said I, "I will inform one of the other constables that I am incapable of carrying out..."
"What?" he said, suddenly peevish. "You're not afraid, are you?"
I grimaced. "Far from it," I returned, "but..."
"What about Katrina?" Masbath interrupted quite rudely. "Mrs. Medwin may be our only hope, if we want to understand why she left; and, when we have that information, perhaps we can convince her to return."
Who was I to defy such reasoning? Still, my heart sank deep within me as I rapped gently on that green door, easing Masbath forward with one hand until he stood before me. The moment I ceased knocking the door seemed to swing open of its own accord; all was dark and eerily quiet as I peered into the house's interior and I could not repress a sudden feeling of dread which threatened to overwhelm my good sense. In hushed tones I said,
"Masbath—stay here."
Recently I had become somewhat more protective of him than was entirely characteristic of me—or so most persons believed. I had always taken the utmost care to make certain of his safety, only now I was showing such intent a little more obviously. In the past I would have made him enter Mrs. Medwin's home with me, perhaps even walking ahead—despite the feelings such behavior would indicate, I nevertheless feared more for his life than for mine.
With slow, unwilling steps I entered the house. It was pitch black, save for the rays of dim sunlight that streamed through the open door. As I walked forward, calling Mrs. Medwin all the while, I suddenly tripped and fell upon something strangely soft and damp.
By this time my eyes had become used to the awful gloom about me and I came to realize just what I had landed on. Crying out, I sprang to my feet and dashed madly for the door. Even as I reached it the door shut itself most inconveniently; grasping the doorknob, I tried to wrench it open to no avail.
"Well, well; if it isn't my brilliant Ichabod. Stay, child. Have you not missed me?"
My heart raced with unhealthy vigor as I faced the speaker. When my gaze fell upon that individual I found that I could say in reply only a simple, "Oh," for even as I made that utterance my legs seemed to no longer possess strength enough to support me, and consciousness departed for a brief period of time.