The Cask of Amontillado
At length I would be avenged: it was at this point definitely settled-but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk
I said to him: “My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts.”
“Nitre,” I replied. “How long have you had that cough?” “Ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!— ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!” My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.
In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock.
“Ha! ha! ha!—he! he!—a very good joke indeed—an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—he! he! he!—over our wine—he! he! he!”
“He! he! he!—he! he! he!—yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone.” “Yes,” I said, “let us be gone.” “For the love of God, Montresor!” “Yes,” I said, “for the love of God!”
“Fortunato!” No answer. I called again: “Fortunato!” No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in reply only a jingling of the bells.
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