Every night about twelve o’clock I slowly opened his door. And when the door was opened wide enough I put my hand in, and then my head. In my hand I held a light covered over with a cloth so that no light showed.
Then, carefully, I lifted the cloth, just a little, so that a single, thin, small light fell across that eye.
The time had come! I rushed into the room, crying, “Die! Die!”
Three men were at the door, three officers of the police.
My easy, quiet manner made the policemen believe my story. So they sat talking with me in a friendly way.
“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!?”