It is the beating of his heart. I admit the deed. He is here, under these planks.
I hid the body in the scantlings and put the room back in order. There was soon a knock on the door. There were officers here to investigate, a neighbor had heard the scream.
I showed them around the house. The tour ended in the old man's room. I brought chairs in, and bid them sit. I myself placed my chair on the beams which the old man was buried.
As our conversation progressed, I heard a pounding sound. I talked more to get rid of the sound. It wouldn't stop. Oh, the pain!
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