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1It was a poorer hand than he suspected. Mr. Barsad saw losing cards in it that Sydney Carton knew nothing of. Thrown out
2of his honourable employment in England, through too much unsuccessful hard swearing there--not because he was not
3wanted there; our English reasons for vaunting our superiority to secrecy and spies are of very modern date--he knew
4that he had crossed the Channel, and accepted service in France: first, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among his own
5countrymen there: gradually, as a tempter and an eavesdropper among the natives. He knew that under the overthrown
6government he had been a spy upon Saint Antoine and Defarge's wine-shop; had received from the watchful police such
7heads of information concerning Doctor Manette's imprisonment, release, and history, as should serve him for an
8introduction to familiar conversation with the Defarges; and tried them on Madame Defarge, and had broken down with them
9signally. He always remembered with fear and trembling, that that terrible woman had knitted when he talked with her,
10and had looked ominously at him as her fingers moved. He had since seen her, in the Section of Saint Antoine, over and
11over again produce her knitted registers, and denounce people whose lives the guillotine then surely swallowed up. He
12knew, as every one employed as he was did, that he was never safe; that flight was impossible; that he was tied fast
13under the shadow of the axe; and that in spite of his utmost tergiversation and treachery in furtherance of the reigning
14terror, a word might bring it down upon him. Once denounced, and on such grave grounds as had just now been suggested to
15his mind, he foresaw that the dreadful woman of whose unrelenting character he had seen many proofs, would produce
16against him that fatal register, and would quash his last chance of life. Besides that all secret men are men soon
17terrified, here were surely cards enough of one black suit, to justify the holder in growing rather livid as he turned
18them over. "You scarcely seem to like your hand," said Sydney, with the greatest composure. "Do you play?" "I think,
19sir," said the spy, in the meanest manner, as he turned to Mr. Lorry, "I may appeal to a gentleman of your years and
20benevolence, to put it to this other gentleman, so much your junior, whether he can under any circumstances reconcile it
21to his station to play that Ace of which he has spoken. I admit that I am a spy, and that it is considered a
22discreditable station--though it must be filled by somebody; but this gentleman is no spy, and why should he so demean
23himself as to make himself one?" "I play my Ace, Mr. Barsad," said Carton, taking the answer on himself, and looking at
24his watch, "without any scruple, in a very few minutes." "I should have hoped, gentlemen both," said the spy, always
25striving to hook Mr. Lorry into the discussion, "that your respect for my sister--" "I could not better testify my
26respect for your sister than by finally relieving her of her brother," said Sydney Carton. "You think not, sir?" "I have
27thoroughly made up my mind about it." The smooth manner of the spy, curiously in dissonance with his ostentatiously
28rough dress, and probably with his usual demeanour, received such a check from the inscrutability of Carton,--who was a
29mystery to wiser and honester men than he,--that it faltered here and failed him. While he was at a loss, Carton said,
30resuming his former air of contemplating cards: "And indeed, now I think again, I have a strong impression that I have
31another good card here, not yet enumerated. That friend and fellow-Sheep, who spoke of himself as pasturing in the
32country prisons; who was he?" "French. You don't know him," said the spy, quickly. "French, eh?" repeated Carton,
33musing, and not appearing to notice him at all, though he echoed his word. "Well; he may be." "Is, I assure you," said
34the spy; "though it's not important." "Though it's not important," repeated Carton, in the same mechanical way--"though
35it's not important--No, it's not important. No. Yet I know the face." "I think not. I am sure not. It can't be," said
36the spy. "It-can't-be," muttered Sydney Carton, retrospectively, and idling his glass (which fortunately was a small
37one) again. "Can't-be. Spoke good French. Yet like a foreigner, I thought?" "Provincial," said the spy. "No. Foreign!"
38cried Carton, striking his open hand on the table, as a light broke clearly on his mind. "Cly! Disguised, but the same
39man. We had that man before us at the Old Bailey." "Now, there you are hasty, sir," said Barsad, with a smile that gave
40his aquiline nose an extra inclination to one side; "there you really give me an advantage over you. Cly (who I will
41unreservedly admit, at this distance of time, was a partner of mine) has been dead several years. I attended him in his
42last illness. He was buried in London, at the church of Saint Pancras-in-the-Fields. His unpopularity with the
43blackguard multitude at the moment prevented my following his remains, but I helped to lay him in his coffin." Here, Mr.
44Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most remarkable goblin shadow on the wall. Tracing it to its source, he
45discovered it to be caused by a sudden extraordinary rising and stiffening of all the risen and stiff hair on Mr.
46Cruncher's head. "Let us be reasonable," said the spy, "and let us be fair. To show you how mistaken you are, and what
47an unfounded assumption yours is, I will lay before you a certificate of Cly's burial, which I happened to have carried
48in my pocket-book," with a hurried hand he produced and opened it, "ever since. There it is. Oh, look at it, look at it!
49You may take it in your hand; it's no forgery." Here, Mr. Lorry perceived the reflection on the wall to elongate, and
50Mr. Cruncher rose and stepped forward. His hair could not have been more violently on end, if it had been that moment
51dressed by the Cow with the crumpled horn in the house that Jack built. Unseen by the spy, Mr. Cruncher stood at his
52side, and touched him on the shoulder like a ghostly bailiff. "That there Roger Cly, master," said Mr. Cruncher, with a
53taciturn and iron-bound visage. "So you put him in his coffin?" "I did." "Who took him out of it?" Barsad leaned back in
54his chair, and stammered, "What do you mean?" "I mean," said Mr. Cruncher, "that he warn't never in it. No! Not he! I'll
55have my head took off, if he was ever in it." The spy looked round at the two gentlemen; they both looked in unspeakable
56astonishment at Jerry. "I tell you," said Jerry, "that you buried paving-stones and earth in that there coffin. Don't go
57and tell me that you buried Cly. It was a take in. Me and two more knows it." "How do you know it?" "What's that to you?
58Ecod!" growled Mr. Cruncher, "it's you I have got a old grudge again, is it, with your shameful impositions upon
59tradesmen! I'd catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a guinea." Sydney Carton, who, with Mr. Lorry, had been
60lost in amazement at this turn of the business, here requested Mr. Cruncher to moderate and explain himself. "At another
61time, sir," he returned, evasively, "the present time is ill-conwenient for explainin'. What I stand to, is, that he
62knows well wot that there Cly was never in that there coffin. Let him say he was, in so much as a word of one syllable,
63and I'll either catch hold of his throat and choke him for half a guinea;" Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this as quite a
64liberal offer; "or I'll out and announce him." "Humph! I see one thing," said Carton. "I hold another card, Mr. Barsad.
65Impossible, here in raging Paris, with Suspicion filling the air, for you to outlive denunciation, when you are in
66communication with another aristocratic spy of the same antecedents as yourself, who, moreover, has the mystery about
67him of having feigned death and come to life again! A plot in the prisons, of the foreigner against the Republic. A
68strong card--a certain Guillotine card! Do you play?" "No!" returned the spy. "I throw up. I confess that we were so
69unpopular with the outrageous mob, that I only got away from England at the risk of being ducked to death, and that Cly
70was so ferreted up and down, that he never would have got away at all but for that sham. Though how this man knows it
71was a sham, is a wonder of wonders to me."
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