They put away the rope and carefully adjusted the flagstone, the seams of which they cemented with moistened bread-crumbs coated with dust. Outside, the galloping of patrols, shouts, curses, calls for help and the blowing of whistles could still be heard. Finally the commotion approached the building and the door of the dormitory was opened.
A dozen warders, armed to the teeth, crowded in among the convicts, and the Lieutenant's voice could be heard ordering the "fall-in." The convicts lined up beside their hammocks.
The Lieutenant saw for himself that five men were missing: Chéri-Bibi, the Burglar, the Parisian, the Caid and the Joker, for these men failed to respond when their numbers were called. The Nut answered when his turn came: Number 3213.
The Lieutenant left the dormitory in a towering rage. He gave orders for two men to remain on guard inside, and the others to be stationed round the building.
"This time I'm really cornered," said the Nut to himself.
Worn out by his struggles and the anxiety through which he had passed, and overcome by the ruin of his last hope, he dropped on to his convict's kitbag; and meantime the two warders left on guard in the dormitory endeavored to discover the means by which the five men had managed to get away.
The convicts laughed in their sleeves at the fruitlessness of these investigations. One of them said loud enough to be heard:
"They won't catch Chéri-Bibi in a hurry. He'll make short work of anyone standing in his way, you bet."
"Well, I tell you that he's lost the number of his mess," roared one of the warders told off to keep watch on them. "I know what I'm talking about, I suppose? I've seen his corpse."
"Did you hear what that warder said?" whispered "Monsieur Désiré" to the Nut. "He said it's true that Chéri-Bibi has been done in. He's seen his corpse."