The two travellers looked at one another in distressed surprise.
“It is really appalling,” said one of them; “you’re not safe anywhere nowadays.”
“You really aren’t,” the other agreed. “Such a number of awful murders and crimes are being perpetrated every day that you would think not one, but a dozen Fantômas were at work!”
XXVII
Three Surprising Incidents
Nibet went off duty at five in the morning, and returned to his own home to go to bed. As a general rule he slept like a top, after a night on duty, but on this occasion he could not close an eye, being far too uneasy about the consequences of his cooperation in Gurn’s escape.
A few minutes before six in the evening he had taken advantage of no warders being about to slip Gurn from cell number 127 into number 129, whence he could make his way to the roof. At six, when he actually came on duty, Nibet opened the peephole in the door of number 127, as he did in all the others, and saw that Gurn had made an admirable dummy figure in the bed: it was so good that it even deceived a head warder who made a single rapid inspection of all the cells when Nibet was on one of his several rounds during the night. Obviously Gurn must have got clear away from the prison, for if he had been caught it would certainly have become generally known.
These reflections somewhat comforted the restless man, but he knew that the most difficult part of his task was still before him: the difficulty of simulating astonishment and distress when he should get back to the prison presently and be told by his fellow-warders of the prisoner’s escape, and the difficulty of answering in a natural manner to the close interrogation to which he would be subjected by the governor and the police, and possibly even M. Fuselier, who would be in a fine rage when he learned that his captive had escaped him. Nibet meant to pretend ignorance and even stupidity. He would far rather be called a fool, than found out to be a knave and an accomplice.
About half-past eleven Nibet got up; Gurn’s escape must certainly be known at the prison by this time. The warder on duty would have gone to the cell about seven to wake the prisoner, and though nothing might have been detected then, the cell would infallibly have been found to be empty at eight o’clock, when the morning broth was taken round. And then—
As he walked from his home round to the prison, Nibet met the gang of masons coming out for dinner; he crossed the street towards them, hoping to hear some news, but they passed by him in silence, one or two of them giving a careless nod or word of greeting; at first Nibet took their silence for a bad sign, thinking they might have been warned to give him no alarm, but he reflected that if Gurn’s escape were discovered, as it surely must be, the authorities would probably prefer not to let the matter become widely known.
As he reached the porter’s lodge his heart beat violently. What would old Morin have to tell him? But old Morin was very busy trying to make his kitchen fire burn properly instead of sending all the smoke pouring out into the room; the old man’s slovenly figure was just visible in a clearing in the smoke, and he returned Nibet’s salutation with nothing more than a silent salute.
“That’s funny!” thought Nibet, and he passed through the main courtyard towards the clerks’ offices at the end. Through the windows he could see the staff, a few bending over their work, most of them reading newspapers, none of them obviously interested in anything special. Next he presented himself before the warders’ turnkey, and again he was allowed to pass on without a word.
By this time Gurn’s accomplice was in a state of such nervous tension that he could hardly restrain himself from catching hold of one or other of the warders whom he saw at their work, and asking them questions. How could the escape of so important a prisoner as the man who had murdered Lord Beltham create so little excitement as this? Nibet longed to rush up the flights of stairs to number 127 and interrogate the warder who had gone on duty after himself, and whom he was now about to relieve in turn. He must surely know all about it. But it would not do to create suspicion, and Nibet had sufficient self-control left to go upstairs at his usual leisurely pace. Outwardly calm and steady, he reached his post just as the clock was striking twelve; he was ever punctuality itself, and he was due on duty at noon.
“Well, Colas,” he said to his colleague, “here I am; you can go now.”
“Good!” said the warder. “I’ll be off at once. I’m on again at six tonight,” and he moved away.
“Everything all right?” Nibet enquired, in a tone he tried to make as casual as possible, but that trembled a little nevertheless.
“Quite,” said Colas, perfectly naturally, and he went away.
Nibet could contain himself no longer, and the next second he threw caution to the winds: rushing to Gurn’s cell he flung the door open.
Gurn was there, sitting on the foot of his bed with his legs crossed and a notebook on his knees, making notes with the quietest attention: he scarcely appeared to notice Nibet’s violent invasion.
“Oh! So you are there?” stammered the astonished warder.
Gurn raised his head and looked at the warder
