He has an eye of a vulture . It haunts me every night. I want it gone, not the man but the eye.
I sneak in his room each night at midnight. For seven nights his eye was always closed. On the eighth night he heard me and woke up, sitting up , eyes wide open asking with terror in his voice " Who's there?'. This is the perfect time to pounce.
The fourth hour
I threw the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once-once only. I held him under the bed. At length it ceased. The old man was dead, stone dead.
The night warned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. Firstly I dismembered the corpse. I then took up 3 planks from the flooring and deposited all between the scantlings.
A neighbour heard the shriek, suspicion of foul play was aroused. The police arrived. I told them it was me, they believed me but I slowly started to get nervous and started rambling, I stated to panic and ended up confessing what I had done
I threw my chair and yelled, " Villains!, dissemble no more ! I admit the deed!-tear up the planks! here, here!-It is the beating of his hideous heart!