"Accident! What accident? This is the twelfth time he's done it, I tell
you." He tossed a file folder at me. "Take a look! Loss of limbs--four
times. Internal injuries--six times. Loss of vision, impaired hearing,
hospitalization and so on--good lord, I can't count the number of
separate claims. And, every one, he has collected on. Go ahead, look it
over."
* * * * *
I peered at the folder. The top sheet was a field report on the
incident I had watched, when the locomotive of the Milan express had
severed both legs. The one below it, dated five weeks earlier, was for
flash burns suffered in the explosion of a stove, causing the loss of
the right forearm nearly to the elbow.
Curious, I thought, I hadn't noticed anything when I saw the man on the
platform. Still, I hadn't paid too much attention to him at first, and
modern prosthetic devices were nearly miraculous. I riffled through the
red-bordered sheets. The fifth claim down, nearly two years before,
was--