The light was fading as he built the wall.
He was young but skilled, and word soon got around.
Lady Gable at the manor had seductively said she needed him to check out her gable end. He'd done more than that, and no doubt she'd considered him 'a bit of rough', because when he'd told her he loved her she'd laughed; something had shorted in his mind. She'd used him.
She would pay.
The light failed as he turned in the now claustrophobic alcove. The batteries of his head-mounted light dying. His last sight; the restrained, petrified Lady Gable.