No answer. I called again--

"Fortunato--"

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture
and let it fall within. There came forth in reply only a jingling
of the bells. My heart grew sick on account of the dampness of
the catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced
the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the
new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half
of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!