ger with, which I never part. And yet I let him lie there unharmed.
When I elbowed my way, masked, through the square, it was twelve o'clock. I was in time to keep my appointment with his wife! I laughed. What a jest!
And Montressor's wife was awaiting me in the usual place. Such a beautiful woman! I really loved her—and I hoped he did.
I was as clever as I was brave—I was indeed, an exceedingly clever man. I had seen my creditors pressing and all things turning toward ruin, and that was why I had converted everything possible into gold and precious stones.
That night I crept unseen into my own house, from which my servants, like Montresor's, had stolen away to enjoy the carnival, and, securing all the wealth I had secreted, was up and away, my chain stricken off by an obscure armorer. I have no doubt that my body-servant was executed for the theft of my fortune—as indeed he should have been for watching my belongings so poorly. But I know not.
Then we left the city while the streets were still crowded and gay—Montressor's wife and I—and went to England, where we have lived a long life very happily.
Years ago I heard a vague rumor that Montresor believed his beautiful wife had gone away with Giovanna, the tenor, who disappeared at about that time. But it was not so. As for Lady Fortunato—she may have guessed the truth.
And Montresor will believe until he dies that my bones lie crumbling in the little walled-in dungeon below his palazzo.
COMING!
A Hair-raising Novelette
by Harold Ward
Will Be Published Complete
In the Next Issue of
Weird Tales
