The narrator then hid the corpses, he also had surprised visitors come.
And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me—the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man’s hour had come! With a loud 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.I then smiled gaily to find the deed so far done... The old man was dead.I removed the bed and examined the corpse.Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes.There was no pulsation.He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
The narrator finally start, or shall I say end his hatred with the eye on the eighth night.
The night waned and I worked hastily but in silence. 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 anything 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, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. I bade the gentlemen welcome.I bade them search—search well undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
At this point the narrator was very confident and somewhat cocky after his killing even when the police officers were there.
The true confession comes out once he heard this triggering noise... the "old man's heartbeat".
No doubt I now grew very pale—but I talked more fluently and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased—and what could I do? It was a low,dull,quick sound—much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.I talked more quickly—more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations, but the noise steadily increased. I paced the floor to and from with heavy strides,as if excited to fury by the observation of the men but the noise steadily increased. Oh my god!I foamed, I raved, I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting and grated it upon the boards but the noise arose over the continually increased. It get louder, louder and louder!And still the men chatted and smiled. was it possible they heard not? Almighty god ! no,no they heard! They suspected! they knew! I felt I must scream or die!“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks!—here, here!—it is the beating of his hideous heart!”
The narrator could no longer take the noise of the beating heart therefore he confessed to everything.