"You've only got to bury them here. You can easily find a way of getting rid of them. In the meantime you needn't be afraid they'll come to life again."
A minute later the Nut, quivering in body and soul, slipped into the loathsome sack intended for one of the guillotined men.
Pernambouc hoisted it on his shoulders.
The warder, whose absence from the jetty Chéri-Bibi had observed at the beginning of his flight, had hurriedly taken up his post as soon as he heard the first rumors of the convicts' escape. He, too, was in a merry mood, and it may be that his gayety had received its inspiration from the same source at which the worthy Pernambouc had refreshed himself.
The man caught sight of the executioner as he laboriously crept forward with the sack on his bade. He went to meet him and asked facetiously:
"Is that shoddy goods heavy?"
"Yes; it's not as light as a feather," he returned. "I'm dying to get rid of it."
"Fire away!" said the warder. "They're sure of 'the convicts' grave' this evening. It's as though the sharks knew about it; for I've seen them turning over and over near the jetty."
"Whereabouts?" asked Pernambouc.
"At the far end."