CHAPTER XXIII

HERO AND OUTLAW

The Nut at length managed to release himself from the trap in which he had been caught. He turned to Chéri-Bibi and could not repress a muffled exclamation when he heard Chéri-Bibi say that he had broken his leg.

"Now make tracks while there's time," Chéri-Bibi whispered. "You have less than five minutes if you want to get away from here. Never mind me. I can't move my leg. Listen: Go past the rag-and-bone shop at the back of the courtyard on the right. No one is there. Slip up the stairs on the right; the others took the one on the left. When you get to the attics, scoot along the roofs till you come to the corner of the little square. Get down as best you can. You'll find a car waiting there, in charge of your friend Hilaire. He won't be surprised to see you. He expects us. Good luck!"

The Nut stooped and put his arms round Chéri-Bibi. He lifted him by a powerful effort.

"What are you doing?" asked the other, who was tying a handkerchief round his bleeding hand.

"I'm going to carry you," said the Nut simply. "You don't suppose I'm going to leave you here."

"Oh, damn it, you'll jolly well do nothing of the sort. I'm done for. I tell you my leg's broken. You can't think of carrying me as if I were a doll. You don't know my weight. Besides, you must clear off--do a guy. The police will come back. You'll get nabbed, and you won't save me. A lot of good that will do you!"

"Listen, Chéri-Bibi, you killed the Caid. They're hunting for his murderer. You can't escape the guillotine this time. I won't leave you here."

He went down on his knees, took Chéri-Bibi by the arms, and hoisted him on his shoulders.

"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.

A door on one of the landings stood ajar. The Nut pushed it open. A little boy and girl began to utter shrill cries. Chéri-Bibi gave them a fierce look which frightened them out of their lives and at once silenced them.

The Nut turned the key in the lock; and the policemen passed the landing, without stopping, on their way to the roof.

Unfortunately, at that moment the children's mother appeared. She had gone out to do some shopping, or to have a gossip with a neighbor, and was hastening home to her children in a state of anxiety caused by the disturbance in the house. She was amazed to find that she could not open the door.

"Didi! . . . Gégé!" she cried, and the children at once returned to life and began to squall anew, and then suddenly they held their tongues, silenced by the frightful look in Chéri-Bibi's eyes.

The mother furiously shook the door.

"But who can have locked the door? . . . Not the youngsters. . . . Didi! . . . Gégé! . . ."

Fresh cries and fresh silence. Then the mother had a fit of hysterical sobbing on the landing. The police came back. She told them that she had just come home to find the door locked. Her children were alone and something dreadful must have happened. At that moment the youngsters began to cry as if they were being flayed alive. They had recovered their breath, for Chéri-Bibi was no longer looking at them. The mother began to scream. . . .

"Hang it all, they're here!" said a policeman.

The mother grasped the situation, and was seized with indescribable fright. She threw herself against the door, shouting imprecations.

"Murder! . . . Murder! . . . They're murdering my children! . . ."

Policemen attempted to break in the door, but the woman's presence hindered them, and when they tried to push her aside she scratched their faces with her claws. She was like a mad woman.

The Nut had opened a window which looked out on to a narrow, deserted street--a sort of blind alley. Chéri-Bibi dragged himself so far, and they took a look round. They saw a rain-pipe fixed to the wall by iron hooks. It was their last hope. By making use of this rain-pipe they could reach the structure above, and climb upon the roof.

"Off you go," whispered Chéri-Bibi. "Good-bye. Don't trouble about me any more, or I'll jump out of the window."

Nothing that Chéri-Bibi could say, even now, made any impression. How the Nut performed the miracle of carrying him and saving him was a riddle which he could not himself have solved five minutes later.

They happened to be on the top floor but one, and the stories were extremely low. The clamps held securely. The molding of the window above did duty likewise as a support for the Nut.

It looked as if they might be hurled headlong below. They could still hear the cries of mother and children, the shouts of policemen, and the echo of tremendous blows striking the door, which, fortunately, was solidly built, as is usually the case in very old houses.

At length Chéri-Bibi and the Nut reached the roof, climbed through a window facing them, and passed into a room in which another window led to the next roof. They made for it, but here they came up against a chimney and nearly fell into the street.

The Nut began to pant like a bellows. They could hear the shouts of the policemen in pursuit who had returned to the roofs, and also the shouts which they exchanged with their men in the street.

Chéri-Bibi still directed the Nut, whose progress was becoming increasingly difficult, for he was almost carrying him.

"Stop here. Passengers off first, please!"

They slipped through a dormer window, found themselves in a loft and crossed a staircase.

"Let me go. I'll get down on one foot."

The Nut did not even hear him. Startled faces appeared in the doorways.

"Go bade to bed, all of you, damn it!" shouted Chéri-Bibi. "I don't want to see your mugs. Keep quiet or I'll murder you!" Then, turning to the Nut, he said: "Another minute and we shall reach the car. All the same, I should never have thought you were so strong. I must say that ten years in a penal settlement have given you a bit of muscle!"

They reached the passage on the ground floor from which they could signal to the car. Afterwards they would have but to start off at full speed.

"I hear the car. The Dodger has grasped the situation. He has set his engine going."

The Nut, who still bore Chéri-Bibi's immense weight on his shoulders, ventured to glance into the street.

"Yes, the car is there!" he said.

"Not a bit of it, she's not there," squeaked Chéri-Bibi. "_Fatalitas!_ That's the police car!"

He assumed that de Saynthine and his confederates had managed in their escape to jump into the car driven by Hilaire before they arrived, which was obviously not in Chéri-Bibi's plan. He had provided for everything that might happen except the intervention of the police.

Suddenly they saw the policemen enter their car and order the chauffeur to drive round the old town. And immediately after their departure Hilaire came up with his car.

Chéri-Bibi and the Nut made a sign and walked out of the passage. Hilaire saw them and beckoned to them. And two huge forms came towards him, one carrying the other. He helped the Nut to install Chéri-Bibi in the car.

"You managed to put de Saynthine off the scent," gasped Chéri-Bibi.

"No mistake about that!" returned Hilaire, who had merely dropped Mlle. Zoé at her hotel and was expecting a warm reception from Chéri-Bibi.

"To Cape Ferrat! And let her go for all she's worth," ordered Chéri-Bibi.

The car drove off. Almost at once the car containing the policemen returned to the square, and seeing the car with the hood up in front of them, started off like a meteor to attack it.

"If you don't give them the slip as well, it's all up with us!" yelled Chéri-Bibi.