Chapter-19
“That’s impossible!” cried Mr. Lorry, “I saw him a short while ago with his family.”
“Mr. Barsad just told a fellow spy over a bottle of wine that the arrest took place, said Sidney. “But what troubles me, Mr. Lorry, is that Dr. Manette did not have the power to stop this arrest. And he may not be able to do anything tomorrow either, when Charles is put on trial. Therefore, I shall have to depend upon someone else for help, a prison official perhaps. It may be you, Mr. Barsad!”
“And if I refuse to help you? There is no way you can force me!” cried Barsad.
“Force you?” sneered Sidney, “Hardly! You, who are now in the pay of the French Republic, were once in the service of the English Government. Who is to say that you are not, in fact, still spying for England? You, who had one name in England, now go by another in France. What would happen if I denounced you to the revolutionary committee of Saint Antoine? No, Mr. Barsad, I force you to do nothing.”
John Barsad fell back into a chair trembling. He had spied in France, first among Englishmen there and later among Frenchmen. Before the Revolution, he had spied in the service of the French king upon the people of Saint Antoine. He had seen Madame Defarge knitting constantly while he was in her husband’s wine shop and had since learnt that the names of those knitted into her list met death on the guillotine.
“By the way,” said Sidney, breaking into the spy’s thoughts with the next step in his plan, “who was that fellow spy you were talking to earlier at the wine shop?”
“He’s French; you don’t know him,” Barsad answered quickly.
“He spoke good French, but not like a Frenchman. I know it was Roger cly! He was disguised, but I recognized him! He, too, was at the Old Bailey trial!”
“Now you’ve gone too far!” said Barsad with a sly smile, “Roger cly, who once was a partner of mine, has been dead for several years. In fact, I helped to lay him in his coffin! I just happen to be carrying a copy of his. death certificate!” And he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.
Suddenly, a remarkable thing happened, Jerry Cruncher rose from his chair. Every hair on his head was standing on end, and a violent expression covered his face. “So you laid Cly in his coffin?” he snarled.
“Yes, I did,” insisted Barsad.
“Then who took him out of it? All that was in that coffin was paving stones!”
“How do you know that?” cried Barsad. “Don’t matter how I know, but I’ll swear it’s true!” growled Jerry.
Sidney Carton now joined in. “So, now you can also be accused in Saint Antoine of having links with another spy working for the English Government. It will look even more suspicion when that spy is seen to have pretended to have dead and then to have come to life again!”
John Barsad saw that he was beaten. “I admit it,” he said, “I was hardly able to get out of England without being clubbed to death on the streets, and Roger Cly could only escape by pretending to have died. But I’ll never understand how this man here knows about that coffin and Cly’s body!”
“Never mind about that!” snapped Sidney.
“Will you go along with what I ask you now?”
“Don’t expect too much of me,” pleaded Barsad.
“I’m not a very important official—only a guard at La Force Prison.”
“I only want to know one thing,” Sidney persisted,
“Do you have keys to the prison cells in your guardhouse?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will have to talk to you privately!” And the two men left the room.
After John Barsad had returned to his jailing and spying duties at La Force, and Sidney Carton had returned to Mr. Lorry’s room, the banker asked what arrangements he had made with Barsad.
“Only that if it goes badly with Charles, I will be able to see him one last time.”
“Is that all? Seeing him once will not save him from death!” cried Mr. Lorry.
“I know that, but there is nothing more that you or Dr. Manette can do! Do not ask me what I am planning, sir. Whatever good I am doing will not make up for the worthless life I have led. There is no one to mourn me when I am dead, no one who loved or respected me in my lifetime. I have never done good for anyone in all my years on earth! Maybe now.”
Mr. Lorry looked puzzled at these strange words. but agreed to meet Sidney at the courthouse the following morning.
Once outside the banker’s rooms, Sidney walked several blocks to a chemist’s shop, where he bought two bottles of liquid.
“Together, they are a very powerful drug,” warned the chemist, “Be careful with them!”
Sidney nodded and left. ‘There is nothing to do now until tomorrow,’ he said to himself.
After walking the streets all night. Sidney returned to his room at daybreak to wash and I dress. He had coffee and bread instead of his usual wine for breakfast, then set out to attend the trial of Charles Darnay.
