Straightening out the plot
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It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend.
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.
I continued, as I won't, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.
I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.
A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite... From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waste, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it.
I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of bells. My heart grew sick-on account of the dampness of the catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up.
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