Regional Director Gogarty was a huge, pale balloon of a man. He was waiting for me at a table set for four. As he greeted me, his expression was sour. "Glad to meet you, Wills. Bad business, this. Bad business. He got away with it again."
I coughed. "Sir?" I asked.
"Zorchi!" he snapped. And I remembered the name I had heard on the platform. The mad-man! Zorchi, Luigi Zorchi, the human jellyfish. "Wills, do you know that that man has just cashed in on his twelfth disability policy? And not a thing we could do to stop him! You were there. You saw it, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"Thought so. The twelfth! And your driver said on the phone it was both legs this time. Both legs—and on a common carrier. Double indemnity!" He shook his enormous head. "And with a whole corps of expediters standing by to stop him!"
I said with some difficulty, "Sir, do you mean that the man I saw run over by the train was—"
"Luigi Zorchi. That's who he was. Ever hear of him, Wills?"
"Can't say I have."
Gogarty nodded his balloon-like head. "The Company has kept it out of the papers, of course, but you can't keep anything from being gossiped about around here. This Zorchi is practically a national hero in Naples. He's damn near a millionaire by now, I guess, and every lira of it has come right out of the Company's indemnity funds. And do you think we can do anything about it? Not a thing! Not even when we're tipped off ahead of time—when, what, and where!