I loved the old man. He had never wronged me, He had the eye of a vulture -- a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold. I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
"How was your night, sir?"
And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it -- oh so gently! And every morning, when the day broke, I talked to him in a hearty tone inquiring how he has passed the night.
Upon the eighth night, I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed. I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle.
"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney -- it is only a mouse crossing the floor."
In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more. I dismembered the corpse and deposited the body parts under the flooring.
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! here, here! -- It is the beating of his hideous heart!"
There came a knocking at the street door and three men introduced themselves as police officers. I talked to them until I could bear no longer.