“Is he. . .” 

    “Not dead, miss, although he’ll awake with a headache.  Fortunately, that Grecian statue looks to have been hollow clay.  Why keep such a thing above the door?” 

    “He’s kept it there since my sister gave it to him as a gift, years ago.  He looks upon it and mourns, though it be more than two weeks since she died.”

    “I see.  The bolts seem to have been removed from the restraining crosspiece. . . Ah, please pardon my manners.  My name is William Legrand.  I was passing this house when I heard a scream.  Whom might I have the honor of addressing?” 

    “Arlene Clemm, sir, and – ”

    “Perhaps, Miss Clemm, you would be so kind as to explain the screwdriver in your hand?”

    Her face turned a ghastly color, but she was spared from answering by the groans of the stricken man. 

    “Alas, Arlene, you cannot win my love by killing me, any more than you can by killing your sister, my heavenly Lenore!”

     “I did not – ”

     “This physic you administered to her.  It was deadly, was it not?”

     I watched, horrified, as he rose, and taking a small pill from the sideboard, fed it to a bird on the window sill.  It flew to a branch, where a vapor escaped its beak, as though its very soul were taking flight.

     “I pray to God I may be free of such lunatics and murderers!” I shrieked, hastening to flee.

      The dying bird fell from its perch, croaking unmistakably, “Nevermore.”