The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.
To your vaults.
Come, let us go.
My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold.
I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. These were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned
The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with niter.
Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing.
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.
ugh! ugh! ugh!
It is farther on. But observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls,
I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upward with a gesticulation I did not understand.
You do not comprehend? Then you are not of the brotherhood.
A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two staples, distant from each other bout two feet horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from each other a padlock.
No answer still. I thrush a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells.
But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud-