It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said−− “Ha! ha! ha!−−he! he! he!−−a very good joke indeed−−an excellent jest. We shall have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo−−he! he! he!−−over our wine−−he! he! he!” “The Amontillado!” I said. “He! he! he!−−he! he! he!−−yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone.” “Yes,” I said, “let us be gone.” “For the love of God, Montresor!” “Yes,” I said, “for the love of God!” But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud−− “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. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re−erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!