The laugh made the hair on my head stand up. Then Fortunato spoke, in a sad voice that no longer sounded like him. He said, "Well, you have played a good joke on me. We will laugh about it soon over a glass of that Amontillado. But isnt it getting late. My wife and my friends will be waiting for us. Let us go." "Yes," I replied, "let us go." I waited for him to say something else. I heard only my own breathing. "Fortunato!" I called. No answer. I called again. "Fortunato!" Still no answer. I hurried to put the last stone into the wall and put the cement around it. Then I pushed the pile of bones in front of the new wall I had built. That was fifty years ago. For half a century now, no one has touched those bones. "May he rest in peace!"