I'll tell you my story, but you need to know something. I am not crazy, truly. Would a crazy person plan as carefully as I did?
I had nothing against the old man himself. It was his eye that enraged me, his cloudy blue vulture eye. I could feel it stare into me. It was the eye that drove me to do what I did.
Every night for a week before I killed him, I would sneak my head into his room at night as he slept. Ever so quietly, I would peer through the door at the sleeping old man. Now, would a crazy person do that? With my lantern, I would shine one single beam onto that vulture eye. But every night, I found the eye closed.
But, the night that I did it, I found his vulture eye open. It was awake and staring at me through the dark. The old man heard my movements, and tried to convince himself that I was not there. But I leaped at him, and he shrieked in terror.
I smothered him until I could no longer hear his heart beating like a watch wrapped in cotton. His eye could trouble me no more. I took great precautions to conceal the body under the floor boards. And when his body was under the floor and out of sight, police came to investigate the "foul play" that they had suspected.
They came in and suspected nothing. Nothing! But as they sat and talked, and talked, and talked, I started to hear a deafening noise. I waited for them to leave. I needed them to leave. Just as I felt as if I would explode, I screamed the truth. I confessed and the noise ceased.
Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!