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 will have many a rich laugh about it at the taqueria --he! he! he! --over our cerveza --he! he! he!"
"The Dos Equis!" I said.
"He! he! he! --he! he! he! --yes, the Dos Equis. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the taqueria, Senora Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."
"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."
"Por madre de Dios, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "por madre de Dios!"