"Oh, it's the finest thing I've ever seen in my life," sobbed Chéri-Bibi. "If there's a Providence, may He help us now. . . . And let me creep along, since you absolutely insist on it. I can lean on your shoulder and you can hold me up. But if you see them coming, chuck me."
They crossed the courtyard, which was all in darkness and formed a sort of well, overlooked by squalid lodging-houses which might have been empty, for no face appeared at the garret-windows. The people who swarmed in them remained in their rooms, refusing to show any interest in what was happening, and, for that matter, never interfering in these dramatic events save to assist burglars to escape the constable.
Cheri-Bibi guided the Nut. When he realized that his old friend was determined to keep the appointment which the "jail-birds" had made, he must have carefully examined the premises. His appearance on the scene in the midst of the struggle was not a bolt from the blue.
Soon they reached a staircase which was so narrow that the Nut had great difficulty in turning round in it with his burden on his back.
"Let go, old man, let go. You'll only get yourself pinched. What does an old horse like me matter?"
Didier continued to climb the stairs. In the meantime the police had come down again by another staircase. They had lost the trail of the three bandits, but considered that their eventual escape was impossible owing to their plan of surrounding the entire block of houses. They came back to the shop, and stopped in amazement when they noticed that the man and his companion, both of whom appeared to be seriously wounded, were gone. They could see only a few bloodstains.
They went to the street door. Here the men posted on guard told them that no one had left the house.
"Very queer," observed a detective-inspector. "Which way have the two birds flown? One of them looked as if his leg was broken, and the other was in a pretty bad way. My opinion is that it would be more interesting to find the two victims than the men who attacked them."
He followed the traces of blood on the flagstones. These led him through the small courtyard to the rag-and-bone shop and the squalid staircase with its damp walls which ran up the building to the right. "They can't be far away," he muttered. And the police darted forward on this new hunt.
Chéri-Bibi heard them running up the staircase. "We are badly done!" he said.