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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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