With my pencil I drew a picture of it and said: “This handle is about five feet in length and very strong. These three prongs are of steel and curved a little and long enough to go through the abdomen of the most prosperous mayor in France.”
“My God! It is the devil's weapon!” he exclaimed.
“You may report to him that the American pitchfork is the 'devil-op-ment' of our interview, and I shall name the day and hour as soon as I can get hold of the weapon.”
“I shall tell my friend, and, please, may I take the picture with me?” said Vincent.
“Certainly, and you may say to him that I shall cable for the forks to-night, and that as soon as they arrive I shall appoint the day and hour.”
He gave me his card.
“You live here in Rome?” I asked.
“I do.”
“Do you work for a living?”
“I am a sculptor.”