The works of Edgar Allan Poe; newly collected and edited, with a memoir, critical introductions, and notes, by Edmund Clarence Stedman and George Edward Woodberry; the illustrations by Albert Edward Sterner.

THE BLACK CAT

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;
ay, 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
free man. 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.
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