liberality to old customers who had fallen from their high estate.

Again: those nobles who had seen the coming storm in time, and

anticipating plunder or confiscation, had made provident

remittances to Tellson’s, were always to be heard of there by their

needy brethren. To which it must be added that every newcomer

from France reported himself and his tidings at Tellson’s, almost

as a matter of course. For such variety of reasons, Tellson’s was at

that time, as to French intelligence, a kind of High Exchange; and

this was so well known to the public, and the inquiries made there

were in consequence so numerous, that Tellson’s sometimes wrote

the latest news out in a line or so and posted it in the Bank

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

windows, for all who ran through Temple Bar to read.

On a steamy, misty afternoon, Mr. Lorry sat at his desk, and

Charles Darnay stood leaning on it, talking with him in a low

voice. The penitential den once set apart for interviews with the

House, was now the news Exchange, and was filled to overflowing.

It was within half an hour or so of the time of closing.

“But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived,” said

Charles Darnay, rather hesitating, “I must still suggest to you”

“I understand. That I am too old?” said Mr. Lorry.

“Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of

travelling, a disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe

for you.”

“My dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence,

“you touch some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying

away. It is safe enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with

an old fellow of hard upon fourscore when there are so many

people there much better worth interfering with. As to its being a

disorganised city, if it were not a disorganised city there would be

no occasion to send somebody from our House here to our House

there, who knows the city and the business, of old, and is in

Tellson’s confidence. As to the uncertain travelling, the long

journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit

myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson’s, after all

these years, who ought to be?”

“I wish I were going myself,” said Charles Darnay, somewhat

restlessly, and like one thinking aloud.

“Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!”

exclaimed Mr. Lorry. “You wish you were going yourself? And you

a Frenchman born? You are a wise counsellor.”

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

“My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that

the thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has

passed through my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having

had some sympathy for the miserable people, and having

abandoned something to them,” he spoke here in his former

thoughtful manner, “that one might be listened to, and might have

the power to persuade to some restraint. Only last night, after you

had left us, when I was talking to Lucie”