"Every night about twelve o’clock I slowly opened his door..... And I stood there quietly. Then, carefully, I lifted the cloth, just a little, so that a single, thin, small light fell across that eye.
"Slowly, little by little, I lifted the cloth, until a small, small light escaped from under it to fall upon — to fall upon that vulture eye!"
"The old man gave a loud cry of fear as I fell upon him and held the bedcovers tightly over his head."
"First I cut off the head, then the arms and the legs. I was careful not to let a single drop of blood fall on the floor. I pulled up three of the boards that formed the floor, and put the pieces of the body there."
"Three men were at the door, three officers of the police. One of the neighbors had heard the old man’s cry and had called the police; these three had come to ask questions and to search the house."
I asked the policemen to come in. The cry, I said, was my own, in a dream. The old man, I said, was away; he had gone to visit a friend in the country. I took them through the whole house, telling them to search it all, to search well.
"Suddenly I knew that the sound was not in my ears, it was not just inside my head. At that moment I must have become quite white.I talked still faster and louder. And the sound, too, became louder..... And still the men sat and talked, and smiled. Was it possible that they could not hear?? No! They heard! I was certain of it.
“Yes! Yes, I killed him. Pull up the boards and you shall see! I killed him. But why does his heart not stop beating?! Why does it not stop!?”