It was now the
      representation of an object that I shudder to name—and for this,
      above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself of
      the monster _had I dared_—it was now, I say, the image of a
      hideous—of a ghastly thing—of the GALLOWS!—oh, mournful and
      terrible engine of Horror and of Crime—of Agony and of Death! And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere
      Humanity. And _a brute beast _—whose fellow I had contemptuously
      destroyed—_a brute beast_ to work out for _me_—for me a man,
      fashioned in the image of the High God—so much of insufferable
      woe! Alas! neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of
      rest any more! During the former the creature left me no moment
      alone, and in the latter I started hourly from dreams of
      unutterable fear to find the hot breath of _the thing_ upon my
      face, and its vast weight—an incarnate nightmare that I had no
      power to shake off—incumbent eternally upon my _heart!_

      Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble
      remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my
      sole intimates—the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The
      moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things
      and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and
      ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned
      myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas, was the most usual and the
      most patient of sufferers. One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the
      cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to
      inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly
      throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an
      axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had
      hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of
      course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I
      wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I
      withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan. This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and
      with entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I
      knew that I could not remove it from the house, either by day or
      by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind. At one period I thought of cutting
      the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. At
      another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the
      cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the
      yard—about packing it in a box, as if merchandise, with the usual
      arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than
      either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar—as the
      monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up their
      victims. For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls
      were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered
      throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the
      atmosphere had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the
      walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace,
      that had been filled up, and made to resemble the red of the
      cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks
      at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as
      before, so that no eye could detect any thing suspicious. And in
      this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crow-bar I
      easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the
      body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position,
      while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it
      originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with
      every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not
      be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully
      went over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I felt
      satisfied that all was right. The wall did not present the
      slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the
      floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around
      triumphantly, and said to myself: “Here at least, then, my labor
      has not been in vain.”

      My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause
      of so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to
      put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment,
      there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that
      the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous
      anger, and forebore to present itself in my present mood. It is
      impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful
      sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature
      occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance during the
      night; and thus for one night at least, since its introduction
      into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even
      with the burden of murder upon my soul! The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came
      not. Once again I breathed as a freeman. The monster, in terror,
      had fled the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My
      happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but
      little. Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been
      readily answered. Even a search had been instituted—but of course
      nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as
      secured. Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police
      came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to
      make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in
      the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no
      embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me accompany them in
      their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length,
      for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I
      quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who
      slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I
      folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro. The
      police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee
      at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if
      but one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their
      assurance of my guiltlessness. “Gentlemen,” I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, “I
      delight to have allayed your suspicions.