e to
the cell about seven to wake the prisoner, and though nothing might have
been detected then, the cell would infallibly have been found to be
empty at eight o'clock, when the morning broth was taken round. And
then----

As he walked from his home round to the prison, Nibet met the gang of
masons coming out for dinner; he crossed the street towards them, hoping
to hear some news, but they passed by him in silence, one or two of them
giving a careless nod or word of greeting; at first Nibet took their
silence for a bad sign, thinking they might have been warned to give him
no alarm, but he reflected that if Gurn's escape were discovered, as it
surely must be, the authorities would probably prefer not to let the
matter become widely known.

As he reached the porter's lodge his heart beat violently. What would
old Morin have to tell him? But old Morin was very busy trying to make
his kitchen fire burn properly instead of sending all the smoke pouring
out into the room; the old man's slovenly figure was just visible in a
clearing in the smoke, and he returned Nibet's salutation with nothing
more than a silent salute.

"That's funny!" thought Nibet, and he passed through the main courtyard
towards the clerks' offices at the end. Through the windows he could see
the staff, a few bending over their work, most of them reading
newspapers, none of them obviously interested in anything special. Next
he presented himself before the warders' turnkey, and again he was
allowed to pass on without a word.

By this time Gurn's accomplice was in a state of such nervous tension
that he could hardly restrain himself from catching hold of one or other
of the warders whom he saw at their work, and asking them questions. How
could the escape of so important a prisoner as the man who had murdered
Lord Beltham create so little excitement as this? Nibet longed to rush
up the flights of stairs to number 127 and interrogate the warder who
had gone on duty after himself, and whom he was now about to relieve in
turn. He must surely know all about it. But it would not do to create
suspicion, and Nibet had sufficient self-control left to go upstairs at
his usual leisurely pace. Outwardly calm and steady, he reached his post
just as the clock was striking twelve; he was ever punctuality itself,
and he was due on duty at noon.

"Well, Colas," he said to his colleague, "here I am; you can go now."

"Good!" said the warder. "I'll be off at once.