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He had the eye of a vulture-- a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so, I decided to take the life of the old man.
I was never kinder to the old man than during the week before I killed him. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded-- with what dissimulation I went to work!
Every night about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it. And then, I thrust my head in-- oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in!
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. To think, here I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out.
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was sitting up in the bed listening; -- just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
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