These "methods" of yours... there
has been no practical application.
Not for lack of trying.
Just so. Granted. And so you take
your experimentations to Sleepy
Hollow and catch the murderer who
has tainted the place. Bring him
here to face our good justice.
Will you do this for me?
I shall, gladly.
Excellent. Then, you are excused
Ichabod moves away, heading to where the corpse was taken.
Oh, and, Constable...
(off Ichabod's look)
Do make certain that you meet with
success. Otherwise... perhaps you
should not come back at all.
The High Constable smiles a sardonic smile.
INT. WATCHHOUSE, INCINERATION ROOM -- NIGHT
The corpse burns in a raging furnace. Flesh sizzles.
Constable One pumps bellows which fan the flames. Ichabod
steps from darkness nearby. He watches with bitter regret as
the corpse is consumed.
EXT. CITY -- DAY
Market town streets bustle. Filthy. Pigs roam free.
INT. ICHABOD'S HOME, SECOND FLOOR -- DAY
Decorated in Early-American Mad Scientist: books, papers and
jars of chemicals. Charts of anatomy above a small bed.
Such a day for such a sad farewell.
But, this is goodbye, my sweet.
At the window, Ichabod holds a bird cage with a red CARDINAL
inside. He opens the cage. The bird flies free.
Ichabod watches it go, then looks down. A COACH halts in the
street below. The forlorn DRIVER looks up.
INT. ICHABOD'S COACH -- DAY
In motion. Ichabod absently studies his hands, touching the
strange SCARS on both palms: evenly dispersed, tiny dots of
tissue. Many scars.
Ichabod lifts a LEATHER SATCHEL, checking its contents.
EXT. UPSTATE FORESTS -- DAY
TWO FAMILIES of MIGRANT WORKERS travel a path, leading over-
burdened horses. Ichabod's coach approaches from the other
direction. Ichabod looks out, unnerved.