True! - nervous -- very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am. I loved the old man, but it was his eye that haunted me.
I was never kinder to the old man than the whole week before I killed him.
And 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. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly -- very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb his sleep.
And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously, I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. I did this for seven long nights -- every night just at midnight.
But I found the eye always closed.
Upon the eighth night, I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my powers -- of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret dreams and thoughts. I chuckled at the idea. He might have heard me! the old man moved in his bed.