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  • I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture—a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold. —I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever.
  • How, then, am I mad? Observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story. It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me.
  • Every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it—oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon. And this I did for seven long nights—every night just at midnight—but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye.
  • I fairly chuckled at the idea;and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly,as if startled.His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers),and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door,and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. The old man’s hour had come! With aloud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.He shrieked once—once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him.
  • Yes, he was stone, stone dead.His eye would trouble me no more. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye—not even his—could have detected any thing wrong.
  • As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart,—for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, as officers of the police. I bade them search—search well. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed.
  • The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. No doubt I now grew very pale, but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? Oh God! what could I do? I foamed—I raved—I swore! It grew louder—louder—louder! They heard!—they suspected!—they knew!—they were making a mockery of my horror!—this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! I felt that I must scream or die! “Villains!” I shrieked, “disassemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks!—here, here!—it is the beating of his hideous heart!”
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