The Cask of Amontillado

The Cask of Amontillado
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  • 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.”
  • Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting on a mask of black silk, and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
  • We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.
  • ..."We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchesi——” “Enough,” he said; “the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.”
  • A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. 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. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it.
  • “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. My heart grew sick—on account of the dampness of the catacombs.
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