"Psst, Trixie!" whispered the Wabbit, who had finally remembered everyone's code names. "Where are you, Wabbit?" said Lapinette. "Behind the statue," said the Wabbit, "I was just talking to this fine fellow about Plato." Lapinette looked round to see the Wabbit bathed in orange floodlighting. "What does he say about Plato then?" said Lapinette. "He says Plato was before his time," said the Wabbit. Lapinette sighed and wondered if the Wabbit would ever stop talking to strange statues. "I've got the sprays!" she said and she waved two cans of fur lacquer."Are they highly flammable?" said the Wabbit. "The propellants are dangerously so," said Lapinette. The Wabbit rubbed his paws together as if he was warming them at a log fire. "I love vinyl chloride!" he chortled. "They took that out of fur spray," said Lapinette, "because it was toxic and carcinogenic. "Oh fiddlesticks," said the Wabbit with disappointment. "But I found two old canisters under the sink," said Lapinette with triumph. "Excellent!" cried the Wabbit. "Did you get the screws, hinges and ironmongery bits?" asked Lapinette. "They're here in my fur," said the Wabbit. "I thought you were clanking a bit," said Lapinette. "Are you setting a trap?" asked the statue suddenly. "It's very hush-hush!" said the Wabbit. "I won't breathe a word," said the statue, "but would you mind setting a trap for that statue there?" "Why?" said Lapinette and the Wabbit in unison. "He stole my parchment," said the statue.