We've managed to track down an elusive literary figure. I am in an undisclosed location with an erstwhile schoolteacher who almost lost his head over a girl, Mr. Ichabod Crane.
Greg: Thank you for joining us, Mr. Crane. It's very exciting to have you here.
Ichabod: Er, um, thank you. It's very flattering of you to say. I have to admit that I am a trifle nervous to have you here. You weren't followed, were you?
Greg: No, definitely not. I followed your instructions to the letter, even the part about not passing the pumpkin patch in the light of a full moon.
Ichabod: Hmmm...you'll forgive me if I remain skeptical. I've spent many years ensuring that my whereabouts remain secret. I only agreed to this interview because I thought it was time for my side of my story to be told, and because you said you were a famous, well respected author who could publicize is.
Greg: Um, yeah, well I hope to be one day. Anyway, if I were a famous, well respected author, I couldn't have come here without being followed. But that's not important. I think the world wants to know what happened to you that night when the Headless Horseman.
Ichabod: Yes, as well you might. It was a dark moonlit night, and my thoughts were full of the lovely Katrina Van Tassel and the prospect of being wed to her. I was not particularly worried as I passed through the hollow on my way back to the schoolhouse.
However, the night was dark and the moon had moved behind the clouds when I heard the sound of galloping hooves behind me. At first, I was not unduly alarmed, as I assumed it was someone else making their way home from Squire Van Tassel's party.
