“I didn't blame Paul for carrying arms. In his position, with that gang at the cottage in the offing, I think it was a wise precaution; for he must have known that he was the main stumbling-block in the claimant's road. But I don't think that he kept within the limits of precaution. I think he decided to get ahead of them by knocking out the claimant—and after that he would be able to live in peace as heretofore. “However, I never had time to probe that matter any further, for the next business was the disappearance of friend Paul. I think I have a fair notion how that was managed. “They approached him and asked for an interview. He sent the claimant a scrap of paper: ‘Meet me at the Blowhole to-night at 11 p.m. Come alone.’ The last two words give you the key to friend Paul's feelings about them. One man he could keep an eye on, and he didn't propose to have any more present. Of course, they filed that note and used it again later, as you'll remember. “Probably the claimant met him at the Blowhole and suggested a walk over the open sands as a good way of avoiding eavesdroppers. Paul would feel safer in the open. By the time they reached the old wreck the claimant would have got him interested, or else his natural fears would be dissipated. At the hulk the claimant obviously turned, as though to go back across the sands, and Paul turned with him. Then, from behind the hull, Aird stole out and did _le coup du Père François_.” “What's that?” Wendover demanded. “You talked a lot about Père François and Sam Lloyd's ‘Get off the Earth’ puzzle, I remember.” “If you happen to be in Paris late at night, squire, and a rough-looking customer asks you the time or begs for a match, you'd better look out for his friend—_le Père François_, they call him—who may be coming up behind you with a long strip of flannel in his hand. While the first man holds you in talk, the Père François lassoes you with his flannel rope and pulls the two ends so that it catches your throat. Then he sinks down suddenly and turns his back to you, slipping the rope over his shoulder as he turns. This pulls you down back to back with him; and when he rises to his normal height again, there you are on his back like a sack on a coal-heaver's back, with your feet off the ground. The first man then goes through your pockets at his leisure, and if you choke to death before he's done, so much the worse for you. You can't struggle with any effect.