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Go inside, the Amontillado is in there.
If you say so.
Montresor, what's happening?
I am getting my revenge!
Fortunato? Fortunato? Yes, my revenge is complete!
Fortunato? Yes, my revenge is complete!
In the middle of the wall was an opening into another vault, if I can call it that — a little room about three feet wide, six or seven feet high, and perhaps four feet deep. It was hardly more than a hole in the wall. “Go on,” I said. “Go in; the Amontillado is in there.” Fortunato continued to go forward, uncertainly. I followed him immediately. Soon, of course, he reached the back wall. He stood there a moment, facing the wall, surprised and wondering.
"Before Fortunato could guess what was happening, I closed the lock and chained him tightly to the wall. I stepped back...I began to search among the bones. Throwing them to one side I found the stones which earlier I had taken down from the wall. Quickly I began to build the wall again, covering the hole where Fortunato stood trembling."
"I heard no answer. 'Fortunato!' I cried. 'Fortunato.' I heard only a soft, low sound, a half-cry of fear. My heart grew sick; it must have been the cold. I hurried to force the last stone into its position. And I put the old bones again in a pile against the wall. For half a century now no human hand has touched them. May he rest in peace!"
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