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Mort
stared
at
the
picture
.
’
Tell
me
,
’
he
said
quietly
,
’
did
the
statue
have
a
drip
on
the
end
of
its
nose
?
’
’
I
shouldn
’
t
think
so
,
’
said
Cutwell
.
’
It
was
marble
.
But
I
don
’
t
know
what
you
’
re
getting
so
worked
up
about
.
Lots
of
people
know
what
he
looked
like
.
He
’
s
famous
.
’
’
He
lived
a
long
time
ago
,
did
he
?
’
’
Two
thousand
years
,
I
think
.
Look
,
I
don
’
t
know
why
—
’
’
I
bet
he
didn
’
t
die
,
though
,
’
said
Mort
.
’
I
bet
he
just
disappeared
one
day
.
Did
he
?
’
Cutwell
was
silent
for
a
moment
.
’
Funny
you
should
say
that
,
’
he
said
slowly
.
There
was
a
legend
I
heard
.
He
got
up
to
some
weird
things
,
they
say
.
They
say
he
blew
himself
into
the
Dungeon
Dimensions
while
trying
to
perform
the
Rite
of
AshkEnte
backwards
.
All
they
found
was
his
hat
.
Tragic
,
really
.
The
whole
city
in
mourning
for
a
day
just
for
a
hat
.
It
wasn
’
t
even
a
particularly
attractive
hat
;
it
had
burn
marks
on
it
.
’
’
Alberto
Malich
,
’
said
Mort
,
half
to
himself
.
’
Well
.
Fancy
that
.
’
