“my hazard is not that, in the thick of business here, if you are true

to the whole of your bargain.”

“Don’t fear me. I will be true to the death.”

“You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be right.

Being made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear.”

“Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you,

and the rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get

assistance and take me to the coach.”

“You?” said the Spy nervously.

“Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the

gate by which you brought me in?”

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“Of course.”

“I was weak and faint when you brought me in, and I am fainter

now you take me out. The parting interview has overpowered me.

Such a thing has happened here, often, and too often. Your life is

in your own hands. Quick! Call assistance!”

“You swear not to betray me?” said the trembling Spy, as he

paused for a last moment.

“Man, man!” returned Carton, stamping his foot; “have I sworn

by no solemn vow already, to go through with this, that you waste

the precious moments now? Take him yourself to the court-yard

you know of , place him yourself in the carriage, show him yourself

to Mr. Lorry, tell him yourself to give him no restorative but air,

and to remember my words of last night, and his promise of last

night, and drive away!”

The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table,

resting his forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately,

with two men.

“How then?” said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure.

“So afflicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery

of Sainte Guillotine?”

“A good patriot,” said the other, “could hardly have been more

afflicted if the Aristocrat had drawn a blank.”

They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they

had brought to the door, and bent to carry it away.

“The time is short, Evremonde,” said the Spy, in a warning

voice.

“I know it well,” answered Carton. “Be careful of my friend, I

entreat you, and leave me.”

“Come, then, my children,” said Barsad. “Lift him, and come

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away!”

The door closed, and Carton was left alone. Straining his

powers of listening to the utmost, he listened for any sound that

might denote suspicion or alarm. There was none. Keys turned,

doors clashed, footsteps passed along distant passages: no cry was

raised, or hurry made, that seemed unusual. Breathing more

freely in a little while, he sat down at the table, and listened again

until the clock struck Two.