"Where are we?" Fortunato asked. "I thought you said the cask of Amontillado was in your wine cellar." "It is," I said. "The wine cellar is just beyond these tombs where the dead of my family are kept. Surely, you are not afraid of walking through the tombs. He turned and looked into my eyes. "Tombs?" he said. He began to cough. The silver bells on his cap jingled. "My poor friend," I said, "how long have you had that cough?" "Its nothing," he said, but he couldnt stop coughing. "Come," I said firmly, "we will go back upstairs. Your health is important. You are rich, respected, admired, and loved. You have a wife and children. Many people would miss you if you died. We will go back before you get seriously ill. I can go to Lucresi for help with the wine." "No!" he cried. "This cough is nothing. It will not kill me. I wont die from a cough." "That is true," I said, "but you must be careful." He took my arm and we began to walk through the cold, dark rooms. We went deeper and deeper into the cellar.