d; "the Amontillado."

As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I
have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of
building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my
trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.

I had scarcely laid the first tier of my masonry when I discovered
that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The
earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth
of the recess. It was _not_ the cry of a drunken man. There was then a
long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and
the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The
noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to
it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and sat down upon the
bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and
finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh
tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again
paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few
feeble rays upon the figure within.

A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the
throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a
brief moment I hesitated--I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to
grope with it about the recess: but the thought of an instant reassured
me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt
satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him
who clamored. I re-echoed--I aided--I surpassed them in volume and in
strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still.

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 recognising as that of the
noble Fortunato. The voice said--

"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he!--a very good joke indeed--an excellent jest. We
will 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!