After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the cathedral of Notre Dame
sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bellringer was
needed. The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews
personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening
process.

After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he
decided to call it a day when a lone, armless man approached him
and announced that he was there to apply for the bellringers job.

The bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!"

"No matter," said the man, "Observe!" He then began striking the
bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.
The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced that he had finally
found a suitable replacement for Quasimodo.

Suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man
tripped, and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death
in the street below.

The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street,
a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the
beautiful music they had heard only moments before. As they silently
parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked, "Bishop, who was
this man?"

"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his face
rings a bell."

[But wait, there's more ...]

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his
heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist
(now there's a trivia question), the bishop continued his interviews
for the bellringer of Notre Dame.

The first man to approach him said, "Your excellency, I am the
brother of the poor, armless wretch who fell to his death from this very
belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to
replace him in this duty."

The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and as the armless man's
brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned,
clutched at his chest and died on the spot.

Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second
tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.

"What has happened?" the first asked breathlessly. "Who is this
man?"

[Wait for it ...]

"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught bishop, "but he's a
dead ringer for his brother."