CHAPTER
NINE
The spy
While
this was happening, Miss Pross was out shopping for the family. Jerry Cruncher
was with her, and they had just gone into a wine-shop when Miss Pross suddenly
stopped, looked at one of the customers, and cried out in a loud voice,
'Oh
Solomon, dear Solomon! I've found you at last, dear brother! But whatever are
you doing here in Paris?'
'Don't
call me Solomon. You'll get me killed. Pay for your wine, and come outside,'
said the man in a low, frightened voice.
They
went outside. 'You mustn't recognize me here,' said the man. 'It's not safe. Go
your way, and let me go mine.'
Miss
Pross began to cry at these unbrotherly words, and Jerry Cruncher stepped
forward to stare in the man's face.
'Wait a minute,' said Jerry. 'Is your name
John Solomon, or Solomon John? Your
sister calls you Solomon. I know that your name's John; I remember that. But
your other name wasn't Pross at that Old Bailey trial. What was your name
then?'
'Barsad'
said another voice.
'Yes,
Barsad, that's it,' cried Jerry. He turned round and saw Sydney Carton standing
behind him.
'Don't
be alarmed, my dear Miss Pross,' said Carton, smiling at her. 'But I'm afraid I
have to tell you that your brother is a spy, a spy for the French prisons.'
Solomon
Pross, also Barsad, went pale. 'That's not true!'
'I
saw you come out of the Conciergerie today. I followed you,' said Carton, 'and
I found out what you do. And I've decided that you may be able to help me. Come
with me to the office of Mr Lorry.'
After
a short argument, which Carton won, Barsad followed him to Mr Lorry's office.
'I
bring bad news,' Carton said to Mr Lorry. 'Darnay has been arrested again.'
'But
I was with him only two hours ago,' cried Mr Lorry. 'He was safe and free!'
'Even so, he has been arrested and taken to
the Conciergerie. And I'm not sure that
Dr Manette's good name can save him this time. So we must have Mr Barsad's
help.'
'I
will not help you,' said Solomon Pross, called John Barsad.
'Oh,
I think you will,' said Sydney Carton, 'when you hear what I could say about
you. Let's think. Mr Barsad is a spy, and a prison guard, but he used to be a
spy in England. Is he still paid by the English?'
'No
one will listen to you,' said Barsad.
'But
I can say more, Mr Barsad,' replied Carton.
Barsad
had more problems than Carton knew. He could not return to England because
he was wanted by the police there. And in France, before he became a prison
guard for the citizens' revolution, he had been a spy for the King's officers.
He knew that Madame Defarge, that terrible woman, had knitted his name into her
list of enemies of the people. Most of those on her list had already been
killed by the Guillotine, and Barsad did not want to be next.
'You
seem worried, Mr Barsad,' said Carton calmly.
The
spy turned to Mr Lorry. 'Miss Pross is my sister, sir. Would you send her
brother to his death, sir?'
'The best thing for your sister, Mr Barsad,'
said Carton smoothly, 'is not to have a brother like you. I think I will inform
the Tribunal that I suspect you of spying for England. You will be condemned at once, I am sure.'
'All
right,' Barsad said slowly, 'I'll help you. But don't ask me to do anything
that will put my life in danger, because I won't do it.'
'You're
a guard at the Conciergerie prison, where Darnay is, aren't you?' said Carton.
'Come, let us talk privately in the next room.'
When
Mr Carton returned alone, Mr Lorry asked what he had done.
'Not
much,' replied Carton, 'but if it goes badly for Darnay tomorrow, I can visit him
once. It's all I could do.'
'But
that will not save him,' cried Mr Lorry sadly.
'I
never said it would.'
Mr
Lorry was an old man now, with a life of hard work behind him. Tears filled his
eyes as he realized he could do nothing to help Lucie and her father now.
Sydney
Carton felt very sorry for Mr Lorry. 'You're a good friend of Dr Manette and
his daughter, but don't tell them about me or this meeting. It can't help
Lucie.' He paused. 'Will you go back to London soon?'
'Yes,
my work for Tellson's Bank here is finished. I have the necessary papers to
leave Paris. I was ready to go tomorrow.'
'Then
don't change your plans,' said Carton, very seriously.
Later
that night Sydney Carton visited a shop in a quiet corner of Paris. He wrote on
a piece of paper the names of several powders and gave it to the shopkeeper.
'For you, citizen?' asked the shopkeeper. 'Yes, for me.'
'You
must be careful, citizen. Keep these things separate. You know what happens if
you put them together.' 'Perfectly,' replied Carton.
He
spent the rest of that night walking the streets of Paris. He watched the moon
rise in the sky, he listened to the sounds of the River Seine flowing through
the heart of the city, and he thought calmly about the past, and the future. He
thought about all the deaths that the city had already seen . . . and he
thought about Lucie's gentle, loving face and her sad, sad eyes.
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