Paulet, who in his braggart way had declared the problem old Moche set him as simple as A B C, seemed a trifle nonplussed. He scratched his nose, fingered his chin and growled out some unintelligible remarks, then finally admitted: “Well, to tell the whole truth, M. Moche, I have the best will in the world, but I shouldn’t know just how to tackle it.” Père Moche had expected the avowal: “No matter for that, my lad. Now listen carefully to what I’m going to say, for the little scheme I’m talking about must be carried through this very afternoon. Now look here—we’re going to stage the fine old play of the _epileptic seizure_. Presently, after feeding time, we shall come along, nicely dressed up to look like honest bourgeois, into the high-life streets, say the grand boulevards or the Tuileries—I can’t tell yet exactly where. We must shadow the individual I shall point out to you. We’ll both walk behind him without any concealment, so that he’ll notice us and forget to pay attention to two other crooks who’ll be stumping along before us. At a given moment I’ll give a signal, and one of the two in front will turn sharp round and come into collision with our man, then beg his pardon civilly for his blunder. That’s the time, Paulet, for you—you’ll be behind, you know—to play up. A neat trip, and you’ll roll your gentleman in the mud. Then, like t’other chap, you must pretend to beg pardon, and meantime, when the guy’s got his head down and his heels in the air along of the sudden tumble, you’ll shove a stopper in his mouth.” “A stopper, say you? but I don’t understand.” “You’re going to understand,” went on Père Moche, and adding ocular demonstration to description, he drew from his pocket for his accomplice’s inspection a sort of small india-rubber ball the size of a walnut. Paulet examined the contrivance with interest. The old man proceeded: “Soon as the client’s got this chestnut in his chops, he won’t be able to say bo! to a goose, for look’ee, Paulet, it’s made of elastic rubber you can swell out as you choose.” So saying, he pressed a spring, while Paulet stood gazing in wonder and admiration at the extraordinary implement of torture—nothing more nor less than an ordinary chokepear or elastic gag.