the Wind and the Fire where to stop; not
me!"

Customers entered, and the group was broken
up. The English customer paid for what he
had had, perplexedly counted his change, and
asked, as a stranger, to be directed towards the
National Palace. Madame Defarge took him to
the door, and put her arm on his, in pointing
out the road. The English customer was not
without his reflections then, that it might be a
good deed to seize that arm, lift it, and strike
under it sharp and deep.

But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed
up in the shadow of the prison wall. At the
appointed hour, he emerged from it to present
himself in Mr. Lorry's room again, where he found
the old gentleman walking to and fro in restless
anxiety. He said he had been with Lucie until
just now, and had only left her for a few minutes,
to come and keep his appointment. Her father
had not been seen, since he quitted the banking-
house towards four o'clock. She had some faint
hopes that his mediation might save Charles,
but they were very slight. He had been more
than five hours gone: where could he be?

Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor
Manette not returning, and he being unwilling to
leave Lucie any longer, it was arranged that he
should go back to her, and come to the banking-
house again at midnight. In the mean while,
Carton would wait alone by the fire for the
Doctor.

He waited and waited, and the clock struck
twelve; but, Doctor Manette did not come back.
Mr. Lorry returned, and found no tidings of him,
and brought none. Where could he be?

They were discussing this question, and were
almost building up some weak structure of hope
on his prolonged absence, when they heard him
on the stairs. The instant he entered the room,
it was plain that all was lost.

Whether he had really been to any one, or
whether he had been all that time traversing the
streets, was never known. As he stood staring
at them, they asked him no question, for his face
told them everything.

"I cannot find it," said he, "and I must have
it. Where is it?"

His head and throat were bare, and, as he
spoke with a helpless look straying all around, he
took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor.

"Where is my bench? I have been looking
everywhere for my bench, and I can't find it.
What have they done with my work? Time
presses: I must finish those shoes."

They looked at one another, and their hearts
died within them.

"Come, come!" said he, in a whimpering
miserable way; "let me get to work. Give me
my work."

Receiving no answer, he tore his hair, and
beat his feet upon the ground, like a distracted
child.

"Don't torture a poor forlorn wretch," he
implored them, with a dreadful cry; "but give
me my work! What is to become of us, if those
shoes are not done to-night?"

Lost, utterly lost!

It was so clearly beyond hope, to reason with
him, or try to restore him, that—as if by agreement—
they each put a hand upon his shoulder,
and soothed him to sit down before the fire, with
a promise that he should have his work presently.
He sank into the chair, and brooded over the
embers, and shed tears. As if all that had
happened since the garret time were a momentary
fancy, or a dream, Mr. Lorry saw him shrink
into the exact figure that Defarge had had in
keeping.

Affected and impressed with terror as they
both were, by this spectacle of ruin, it was not
a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely
daughter, bereft of her final hope and reliance,
appealed to them both, too strongly. Again, as
if by agreement, they looked at one another
with one meaning in their faces. Carton was
the first to speak:

"The last chance is gone: it was not much.
Yes; he had better be taken to her. But,
before you go, will you, for a moment, steadily
attend to me? Don't ask me why I make the
stipulations I am going to make, and exact the
promise I am going to exact; I have a reason
a good one."

"I do not doubt it," answered Mr. Lorry.
"Say on."

The figure in the chair between them, was all
the time monotonously rocking itself to and fro,
and moaning. They spoke in such a tone as
they would have used if they had been watching
by a sick-bed in the night.

Carton stooped to pick up the coat, which lay
almost entangling his feet. As he did so, a
small case in which the Doctor was accustomed
to carry the list of his day's duties, fell lightly
on the floor. Carton took it up, and there was a
folded paper in it. "We should look at this?"
he said. Mr. Lorry nodded his consent. He
opened it, and exclaimed, "Thank GOD!"

"What is it?" asked Mr. Lorry, eagerly.

"A moment! Let me speak of it in its
place. First," he put his hand in his coat, and
took another paper from it, "that is the
certificate which enables me to pass out of this city.
Look at it. You see—Sydney Carton, an
Englishman?"

Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand, gazing in
his earnest face.

"Keep it for me until to-morrow. I shall
see him to-morrow, you remember, and I had
better not take it into the prison."

"Why not?"

"I don't know: I prefer not to do so. Now
take this paper that Doctor Manette has carried
about him. It is a similar certificate, enabling
him and his daughter and her child, at any
time, to pass the Barrier and the frontier? You
see?"

"Yes!"

"Perhaps he obtained it as his last and
utmost precaution against evil, yesterday.
When is it dated? But no matter; don't stay
to look; put it up carefully with mine and your
own. Now, observe! I never doubted until