The Nut knew that when Chéri-Bibi spoke he spoke to some purpose. He believed in him; and he was buoyed up by an immense hope.
"Back to France," he gasped.
"Twenty-two!" whispered Chéri-Bibi.
Twenty-two signified in convict language: "Look out!"
The Nut turned his head slightly and caught sight of the figure of a convict guard passing not far away from them, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The man cast a glance in their direction and disappeared, strolling along the sea-front. The Burglar still occupied his post of observation.
"I may tell you that I shall provide you with the papers of an honest man. You shall have everything necessary to start afresh and be happy."
"Heavens above!" moaned the Nut.
He took a long look at Chéri-Bibi. Chéri-Bibi was weeping. The Nut felt a thrill pass through him. Tears in the eyes of Chéri-Bibi! It was a sight to which he was unaccustomed. Chéri-Bibi stuck his fists into his eyes, as a punishment, doubtless, for that moment of weakness, and uttered a frightful oath.
"Why don't you get away with me?" asked the Nut.
"Because I should be in your way, old man. You'll soon forget all about Chéri-Bibi, I assure you."