Марсианские хроники

           "Let’smakeitagoodshow."

           "Letmeout,letmeout!"

           Therewasonelastbricktoshoveintoplace.Thescreamingwascontinuous.

           "Garrett?"calledStendahlsoftly.Garrettsilencedhimself."Garrett,"saidStendahl,"doyouknowwhyI’vedonethistoyou?BecauseyouburnedMr.Poe’sbookswithoutreallyreadingthem.Youtookotherpeople’sadvicethattheyneededburning.Otherwiseyou’dhaverealizedwhatIwasgoingtodotoyouwhenwecamedownhereamomentago.Ignoranceisfatal,Mr.Garrett."

           Garrettwassilent.

           "Iwantthistobeperfect,"saidStendahl,holdinghislanternupsoitslightpenetratedinupontheslumpedfigure."Jingleyourbellssoftly."Thebellsrustled."Now,ifyou’llpleasesay,«FortheloveofGod,Monstresor,»Imightletyoufree."

           Theman’sfacecameupinthelight.Therewasahesitation.Thengrotesquelythemansaid,"FortheloveofGod,Montresor."

           "Ah,"saidStendahl,eyesclosed.Heshovedthelastbrickintoplaceandmortaredittight."Requiescatinpace,dearfriend."

           Hehastenedfromthecatacomb.

           Inthesevenroomsthesoundofamidnightclockbroughteverythingtoahalt.

           TheRedDeathappeared.

           Stendahlturnedforamomentatthedoortowatch.AndthenheranoutofthegreatHouse,acrossthemoat,towhereahelicopterwaited.

           "Ready,Pikes?"

           "Ready."

           "Thereitgoes!"

           TheylookedatthegreatHouse,smiling