“That means,” went on M. Moche, “you’ve got to upset your client, tie him up to rights, and pop him in a wheeler before he has the time to say ‘knife’.”
“It’s nothing so very formidable,” remarked Paulet.
But the old man proceeded.
“That depends on the place where the thing’s done. Don’t you go and suppose I’m proposing to do the job in a far-away corner at night when there’s nobody by—that’d be elementary. My dear fellow, the man we’re to pack away—for you may be sure I’ve got an idea at the back of my head—we’re out to do his business in broad daylight, in the open street, in the middle of Paris!”
“That’s a bit more difficult—but not impossible,” Paulet declared.
Père Moche nodded approvingly.
“For sure, you’ve got the guts, my lad, and I begin to think you’ll do finely for yourself yet. But just tell me how you’d set about it?”
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.”