Once: With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe...
My rival was a cunning and scheming man. He had but one weakness - a fondness for wine. And this gave me thought, and a desperate plan.
And so I plied him with drink, one fine vintage after another. He was greedy and took deeply of the cup, while I stayed my hand. I would need to be clear-headed to carry out my scheme.
"I have a casque of Amontillado in my cellar," said I, baiting the trap.
"I must taste it!" he cried.
And so we took lanterns into the dark cellar. Above us carnival raged, a medley of sounds and bright colours. And no-one knew that we had taken our leave of the festivities. Our footsteps echoed along the ancestral stones of my house.
Finally we arrived at the deepest point of the vault - the h7 square. Dulled by the grape, he looked about him for the Amontillado, and with 10. Bf7 I quickly fastened iron staples around his wrists and ankles.
"The Amontillado?" he asked, still delerious in his drunkenness.
It was then time for the second part of my plan. Near to the alcove I had secreted bricks, mortar and a trowel. Brick by brick, I slowly built up a layer of wall, closing the recess forever. I could hear his chains rattling as the wall grew higher. 12. Qg6!!
At length, the commotion ceased. "For the love of God, Montresor," he cried. 12...Nxg6
"Yes," I said, "For the love of God!"
And with that I placed the final brick into its slot. 13. fxg6#
Silence. No answer from the dark. My work done, I collected my tools and hurried back to the feast. The wall I built that night has lain undisturbed for more than half a century.