And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? — now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.  I knew that sound well, too.  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.

But even yet I refrained and kept still.  I scarcely breathed.  I held the lantern motionless.  I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve.  Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased.  It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant.  The old man’s terror must have been extreme!  It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! — do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous:  so I am.  And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.  Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still.  But the beating grew louder, louder!  I thought the heart must burst.  And now a new anxiety seized me — the sound would be heard by a neighbour!  The old man’s hour had come!  With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.  He shrieked once — once only.  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.  This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall.  At length it ceased.  The old man was dead.  I removed the bed and examined the corpse.  Yes, he was stone, stone dead.  I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes.  There was no pulsation.  He was stone dead.  His eye would trouble me no more.

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, but in silence.  First of all I dismembered the corpse.  I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings.  I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye — not even his — could have detected any thing wrong.  There was nothing to wash out — no stain of any kind — no blood-spot whatever.  I had been too wary for that.  A tub had caught all — ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock — still dark as midnight.  As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door.  I went down to open it with a light heart, — for what had I now to fear?  There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police.  A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.