back; even my blood became cold. And so, I finally decided I had to kill the old man and close that eye forever!So you think that I am mad? A madman cannot plan. But you should have seen me. During all of that week I was as friendly to the old man as I could be, and warm, and loving.
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. In my hand I held a light covered over with a cloth so that no light showed. And I stood there quietly. Then, carefully, I lifted the cloth, 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.Always the eye was closed, so it was impossible for me to do the work.For it was not the old man I felt I had to kill; it was the eye, his Evil Eye.
And every morning I went to his room, and with a warm, friendly voice I asked him how he had slept. He could not guess that every night, just at twelve, I looked in at him as he slept.
The eighth night I was more than usually careful as I opened the door. The hands of a clock move more quickly than did my hand.Never before had I felt so strongly my own power; I was now sure ofsuccess.
The old man was lying there not dreaming that I was at his door.Suddenly he moved in his bed. You may think I became afraid. But no.The darkness in his room was thick and black. I knew he could not see the opening of the door. I continued to push the door, slowly, softly. I put in my head. I put in my hand, with the covered light. Suddenly the old man sat straight up in bed and cried,
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