undertakers, and wot with parish clerks, and wot with sextons,

and wot with private watchmen (all awaricious and all in it), a man

wouldn’t get much by it, even if it wos so. And wot little man did

get, would never prosper with him, Mr. Lorry. He’d never have no

good of it; he’d want all along to be out of the line, if he could see

his way out, being once ineven if it wos so.”

“Ugh!” cried Mr. Lorry, rather relenting, nevertheless. “I am

shocked at the sight of you.”

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“Now, what I would humbly offer to you, sir,” pursued Mr.

Cruncher, “even if it wos so, which I don’t say it is” “Don’t

prevaricate,” said Mr. Lorry.

“No, I will not, sir,” returned Mr. Cruncher, as if nothing were

further from his thoughts or practice“which I don’t say it is

wot I would humbly offer to you, sir, would be this. Upon that

there stool, at that there Bar, sets that there boy of mine, brought

up and growed up to be a man, wot will errand you, message you,

general-light-job you, till your heels is where your head is, if such

should be your wishes. If it was so, which I still don’t say it is (for I

will not prewaricate to you, sir) let that there boy keep his father’s

place, and take care of his mother; don’t blow upon that boy’s

fatherdo not do it, sirand let that father go into the line of the

reg’lar diggin’, and make amends for what he would have undug

if it wos soby diggin’ of ’em in with a will, and with conwictions

respectin’ the futur’ keepin’ of ’em safe. That, Mr. Lorry,” said Mr.

Cruncher, wiping his forehead with his arm, as an announcement

that he had arrived at the peroration of his discourse, “is wot I

would respectfully offer to you, sir. A man don’t see all this here a

goin’ on dreadful round him, in the way of Subjects without heads,

dear me, plentiful enough fur to bring the price down to porterage

and hardly that, without havin’ his serious thoughts of things. And

these here would be mine, if it wos so, entreatin’ of you fur to bear

in mind that wot I said just now, I up and said in the good cause

when I might have kep’ it back.”

“That at least is true,” said Mr. Lorry. “Say no more now. It

may be that I shall yet stand your friend, if you deserve it, and

repent in actionnot in words. I want no more words.”

Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the

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spy returned from the dark room. “Adieu, Mr. Barsad,” said the

former; “our arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear

from me.”

He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry.

When they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done?

“Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured

access to him, once.”

Mr. Lorry’s countenance fell.

“It is all I could do,” said Carton. “To propose too much would

be to put this man’s head under the axe, and, as he himself said,

nothing worse could happen to him if he were denounced. It was