And this I did for seven long nights—every night just at midnight—but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. 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. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back—but no. His room was as black as pitch with thick darkness for the shutters were close fastened and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.