"That reminds me," said the journalist, "of the story of Henri
Deplis. Have I ever told it you?"

Clovis shook his head.

"Henri Deplis was by birth a native of the Grand Duchy of
Luxemburg. On maturer reflection he became a commercial
traveller. His business activities frequently took him beyond the
limits of the Grand Duchy, and he was stopping in a small town of
Northern Italy when news reached him from home that a legacy from
a distant and deceased relative had fallen to his share.

"It was not a large legacy, even from the modest standpoint of
Henri Deplis, but it impelled him towards some seemingly harmless
extravagances. In particular it led him to patronize local art as
represented by the tattoo-needles of Signor Andreas Pincini.
Signor Pincini was, perhaps, the most brilliant master of tattoo
craft that Italy had ever known, but his circumstances were
decidedly impoverished, and for the sum of six hundred francs he
gladly undertook to cover his client's back, from the collar-bone
down to the waistline, with a glowing representation of the Fall
of Icarus. The design, when finally developed, was a slight
disappointment to Monsieur Deplis, who had suspected Icarus of
being a fortress taken by Wallenstein in the Thirty Years' War,
but he was more than satisfied with the execution of the work,
which was acclaimed by all who had the privilege of seeing it as
Pincini's masterpiece.

"It was his greatest effort, and his last. Without even waiting