"Mister Rowley, over on Oak Hills. He’s the only person in these parts that would have that type of wealth," another man from the crowd, said.

With this news, Ichabod and the others traveled to the far end of Sleepy Hollow, where the city met the open forest and Oak Hills road. They walked straight up to the door of the Rowley house, then Ichabod turned to face his audience.

"You are about to learn who is behind these heinous acts," he said. Then he turned to the door and begin to knock heavily. Once the door started to open, he looked back over his shoulder and said, "This be your killer."

And with a flourish, Ichabod pushed the door fully open to reveal a small, elderly man standing in its entrance. The crowd started to laugh and Ichabod realized that the information given him had been a mere ruse, intending to make him the butt of their joke. Feeling quite foolish, but without saying a word, the young doctor turned away and headed back toward the town, though he could easily hear the taunts and chuckles of the townsfolk from behind him.

Once back in town, he made his way to a local tavern. Inside, he sat down and treated himself to a drink, as he searched his thoughts.

After some time of drinking heavily, Doctor Crane found his way back outside. Now somewhat drunk, he staggered down the road until he came upon the town’s cemetery. Feeling a bit woozy, he lowered himself down next to the cast iron gates that closed off the graveyard. In his drunken daze, Ichabod had decided that come morning, he would be on his way back to the 'City.'

As he sat there in a moderately drunken stupor, he noticed a man off in the distance digging a fresh grave. Now a bit curious, Ichabod pulled himself back to his feet and staggered past the entrance gates. For a town this small, he noticed that the size of their graveyard was enormous; possibly three times the size it ought to have been.

Just as he came upon the freshly dug plot, the grave digger walked away, giving the doctor a grim smile. As Crane moved up next to the grave, he stared down into the dark hole, which sent a cold shudder up his spine. He turned to look about the graveyard, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to see anything clearly, due to a thick fog that was rolling in, along with the sun beginning to set. Feeling the aftereffects of his heavy drinking from earlier, he slowly leaned upon a headstone near the freshly dug grave.

"I tell ya, they sure made a horse’s ass out of me," he said aloud, followed by a thunderous belch. "You got it lucky," he added, patting the cold headstone. "You’re dead. You could give a crap about anything, Mister…" he said, then paused and leaned forward to see whose name was on the headstone.

He quickly jumped to his feet when he saw that the inscription on the stone read: ‘Doctor Ichabod Crane’.