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. I held a dark lantern in my hand so that no light shone out.
Then carefully I opened the lantern, just a little, so that a single, thin, small light fell across that eye. For seven nights I did this, seven long nights, every night at midnight.
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, crying out --"Who's there?"I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle.
When I had waited a very long time, I resolved to open a little --a very, little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, shot from out the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. At length it ceased. The old man was dead.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.