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It is impossible to how the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.
It was his eye! Yes, it was this! 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.
I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine.
There came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbor! THE OLD MAN'S HOUR HAD COME!
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