It was the Parisian who did the talking. For that matter he kept a safe distance from the Nut. The Burglar, for his part, was leading his confederates somewhat craftily, pushing as near the Nut as possible, thinking to himself that there could not be too many of them, and there would be a row.
The fight was begun by a violent movement from the Caid, who seized the Nut by the legs and threw him into the hammock. The Nut sprang out after the Caid, who managed to slip away. A score of men made for the Nut and the thud of heads striking the flagstones was heard.
The dormitory in which these wild beasts were tearing each other to pieces was rent with hollow groans and hoarse cries. Feeling that his fellow-prisoners' hatred of him was such that they would never allow him to get away, the Nut, whose last hope was in death, determined to sell his life dearly. But before he died he would recompense himself for all his sufferings, all that he had undergone from those hideous jailers who were more odious than the warders, and fiercer than the sharks themselves who lay in wait for their prey behind the rocks in the Île Royale.
He fought like a lion. Many of the men who came up against him were to bear for some time the marks of the desperate encounter. Nevertheless he was soon felled to the ground, in the narrow space, by weight of numbers.
Almost smothered, reduced to helplessness, twenty convicts lay heavily on his limbs and he was tightly and strongly bound with a rope which appeared as if by magic. Then he was flung into his corner, gasping for breath, worsted. He closed his eyes so that they should not behold his distress.
Thus at the moment when he was thinking of making good his escape, the purgatory was to begin all over again. Continue to live this life! He would rather die! Why had they not killed him a few minutes before? Why had not the iron grip of those murderous fingers round his throat set him free from his terrible existence? He had suffered torment for ten years; ten long years during which he had never ceased to hope for his deliverance by flight and for the miracle which would establish his innocence. Now he no longer hoped for anything. He thought only of how to end his life. . . .
And in the meantime Chéri-Bibi was waiting for him . . . Chéri-Bibi who had prepared everything, who had done wonders. . . . To what end?
Among the hideous faces bending over the Nut, he would have looked in vain now for the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker. The four men, during the fight, had slipped into the underground passage dug out by the most terrible man among the "lifers."
Suddenly a shot rang out in the stillness. They all gave a start. And "Monsieur Désiré" who for a tin of sardines and a packet of cigarettes usually acted as assistant to Pernambouc, the prison executioner, whispered to the Nut:
"Did you hear that? They're playing with the shooters not far from the coast. Chéri-Bibi may have been hit. He won't get you away to-night. Mind the Inspector doesn't find out that you are chums with him. It'll be a bad look out for the convicts. Take it from me, the finish of it will be that I shall have your noddle." And he added with a hideous laugh, "You know I shan't say no to that, because I'm out of tobacco. I've given it all away to pals. 'Monsieur Désiré' has a good heart."