Two Cities

Chapter 52: A Good Hand (2)
Mr. Lorry's professional eye had read from the speaker's expression that there was no need to dwell on the subject.He felt flustered, but he also understood that certain things must be calm at this time, so he tried his best to calm down, did not speak, and only listened carefully.

"I now believe," Sidney said to him, "that the name and prestige of Dr. Manette will have a great influence on Darnay to-morrow--you said that he will be tried again tomorrow, did you, Barca? "

"Yes, I believe so." "The doctor will be as helpful to him tomorrow as he is today. But not always. I confess to you, Mr. Lorry, that Dr. Manette didn't even know there was going to be another arrest. It shocked me."

"He may not have been informed beforehand," Mr Lowry said. "That fact is astonishing. Come to think of it, he gets along very well with his son-in-law!" "Indeed," Mr. Lorry did not deny, with one hand hurriedly touching his chin and his eyes anxiously looking at Carlton. "In a word," said Sidney, "this is the age of taking risks, of taking desperate bets for desperate gambles. Doctor, please, bet on the winners, and I'll bet on the losers!" No one's life is worth anything. A man who is carried home today could be executed tomorrow. Now, I decided to bet on winning back a friend who was in a subsidiary prison at the worst possible time. And the one I want him to lose is Mr Barca."

"Then you'll have good evidence in hand, sir," said the spy. "I'll see what they've got up to—Mr. Lorry, you know I'm a rough fellow, and I wish you'd give me a little brandy."

The wine was brought over, and he drank two glasses before pushing away the bottle in thought. "Monsieur Bassa," he went on, as if he were actually looking at the man whose cards were in his hand, "the sheep in the prison, the commissioner of the Council of the Republic, sometimes in prison, sometimes in prison, always a spy and an informer. Being an Englishman, So much more valuable. Because the Englishman is less suspicious of the job than the Frenchman. But the Englishman used a false name in front of the boss. This is a very weighty handle. At this time employed by Mr. Bassa of the French Republican government was employed by the enemy of France, the British aristocratic government. This card is very exciting, and a clear inference is made in this environment: Mr. Bassa still holds the allowance of the British government to do Pitt's agent is the most talked about, but not sure how to arrest, vicious British spies lurking in the republic. This is an invincible card. Do you understand what my card means? Mister Bartha?"

"I don't understand your style of play," replied the spy, already disturbed.

"I play an ace: report this to the nearest district council. Look at the cards, Mr. Bassa, and see what you have. Don't panic."

He poured the wine and downed it in one gulp.He saw that the spy was afraid that he would go and expose him if he was really drunk.After clearing his mind, he poured another glass of wine and downed it.

"Think carefully about the cards in your hand, Mr. Bartha. Play slowly." The spy's hand was worse than Carlton guessed.He saw losses that Sidney Carton hadn't even known about.He'd lost that coveted job in England -- through gritted teeth and perjury, not because the stuff wasn't needed there.The grounds with which we English boast our contempt for intrusions of privacy and espionage are, in fact, quite recent.Barcelona knew in his heart that since he took this step, at first he was doing the work of inducing and eavesdropping among his overseas Chinese, and then the scope gradually expanded to gradually work among the French.He had worked as an agent for the district of Saint-Antoine and the Hotel Defarge under the overthrown government, and had obtained documents from the watching police authorities concerning the captivity, release, and history of Dr. The Farges strike up a conversation and have an intimate conversation, but in the end no one responds.He was frightened at the thought of that terrible woman who, while she was talking to him, knitting, kept moving her fingers and looking at him maliciously.Later, he had seen her in the St. Antoine district, repeatedly pointing out that the records she wove exposed others, and the lives of those people were all swallowed up by the guillotine.It was clear to his peers that he had never been safe.He was chained tightly to the shadow of the axe, and it was not so easy to escape.He also knew that despite his relentless, cunning and deceitful ability to add fuel to the reigning terror that made matters worse, it only took one word to bring the ax down on him.He could guess that if he were to be exposed on the grave matter just presented to him, the terrible record would be brought against him by that dreadful woman whose cruelty he had already long I have been taught many times.What's more, those who engage in secret activities are not good people, but they have such a clue, no wonder his face was ashen when he weighed his cards.

"You don't seem to like your tricks much," said Sidney very calmly. "Would you like to play?"

"I see, sir," said the spy, turning to Mr. Lorry, with the most humble air, "that the old gentleman is very respectable, and I wish you would speak to this gentleman, much younger than you, to ask him to do whatever he can to honor him. Don't give him that A. I admit that I am a spy, a rather humble profession-although a spy must be willing to be a spy. If this gentleman is not a spy, why bother to pry into other people's privacy like this."

"Wait a few minutes, Mr. Bartha," Carlton said to himself, looking at his watch, "and I'm going to hit my ace without any hesitation."

"I have a hope, gentlemen," said the spy, who was always trying to lure Mr. Lorry into the conversation, "with respect to my sister—"

"The best way to show respect to your sister is to have her brother disappear," Sydney Carlton said.

"Do you still think so, sir?" "I won't change."

The secret agent's sophisticated manner was strangely out of step with his deliberately low-key attire, and perhaps with his usual attitude towards everyone.But his tact has hit a big nail in the face of Carton's unfathomable depths——Carton is still an unknown mystery to people who are wiser and more honest than him! — but the spy didn't know what to do.He was at a loss, and Carlton resumed the air of playing cards just now:
"I thought it over again, and, indeed, I have a good card here--and this one made a great impression on me too. Your fellow prisoner, your friend, said he had eaten in a country prison. Damn, who is that person?"

"Frenchman, don't you know who it is," said the spy hastily. "French, uh!" Carton turned in his head, though repeating his words. "Well, maybe." "Yes, I assure you," said the spy, "though it doesn't matter." "It doesn't matter," Carlton repeated--"though it does, it doesn't matter." , it doesn't matter. But I do have an impression of that face." "No, I don't believe it, it's impossible," said the spy. "No-may-possible," recalled Sidney Carton, pouring out his drink (fortunately the glass was not very large), "no-possible-possible. I speak French quite well. But I Always feel like a foreigner, don't you?"

"It sounds like a provincial accent," said the spy. "No, it's a foreign accent," a flash of light reminded him of something, and Carlton slapped his palm on the table. "It's Clay! No matter how he changes, it's still him. We met before at the Old Baylor."

"Then you're being careless, sir," Bartha said, smiling, making his aquiline nose even more crooked. "You've given me the upper hand. Clay, it's been so many years that I can be honest. I admit he was my partner, but he's been dead for years. I was with him when he was sick for the last time. He was buried at Pancras, in the London countryside. He was not well-liked there, and I was unable to see him buried, but I did help in getting his body into the coffin."

At this point, Mr. Lorry found a strange shadow on the wall, but he turned his eyes and found that it was Mr. Cruncher.His hair was all standing on end.

"Let's not get confused," said the agent, "in a fair way. To show you how wrong you are, all out of imagination, I'm going to show you a copy of Clay's burial certificate, which happened to be since I keep it in my notepad," he said, hastily pulling out the proof. "Isn't it. Ah, look! You can take it over and see, it's real."

At this moment Mr. Lorry saw the figure growing longer on the wall, and Mr. Cruncher stood up and walked forward, with his hair raised straight up, just like the cow in the room at that time. His hair stood straighter than it was now.

Cruncher stood beside Barca, but he didn't realize it, and patted him on the shoulder like a guard from a ghost country.

"And that Master Roger Clay," said Mr. Cruncher gravely but calmly, "was it you who put him in the coffin?"

"That's right." "But who took him away?"

Barca leaned back in his chair and said at a loss, "Why do you say that?"

"I mean he wasn't in the coffin at all. No, he wasn't! If he was in the coffin he could cut off my head."

The spy looked back at the other two, both of whom looked at Jerry in great surprise. "Let me tell you," Jerry said, "you put paving stones and dirt in that coffin. You lied to me about burying Clay. It was a hoax. Not only I knew it, but other people did."

"How did you know that?" "Has anything to do with you? Speech!" muttered Cruncher. "I'm already very angry with you. You're a shameless dupe of businessmen! I'll bet a half-crown that you will Grab your throat and strangle you."

The situation took such a sudden turn that Sidney Carton and Mr. Lorry were bewildered.They begged Mr. Cruncher not to be angry and wanted to know what had happened.

"Let's leave the explanation for later, sir," he evaded. "It's not convenient to explain now. What I want to insist is that he knows that Clay has never been in the coffin. As long as he dares to say that he was in, I will take it." Half a crown bet he'll be dead by the throat," Mr. Cruncher took this as a generous suggestion, "or I'll go out and denounce him."

"Well, I see one thing," said Carlton. "I have a new clue, Mr. Basa. You have been in touch with another spy of the aristocratic government. This person has the same experience as you in the past, but is even more mysterious. He pretended to be dead and came back to life! This But the prison plot of foreign spies is against the republic. In angry Paris, the air is full of suspicion, and once denounced, there is no chance of life. A big card-beheaded! You want to gamble Is it?"

"No bet!" replied the spy. "I admit that I lost. I admit that the rough people don't like us very much. I escaped from England at the risk of being held in the water and drowning. Clay was also hunted on all sides. If it weren't for this, he couldn't Out of England. But how this man knew, seems to me a miracle of miracles."

"Don't worry about that guy," retorted the combative Mr. Cruncher, "you've had a lot of trouble with this gentleman. Listen up! I'll say it again!"—Mr. Cruncher's very melodramatic Showing off his pride, "I'll bet half a crown to grab you by the throat and strangle you."

The prison sheep turned his gaze from him to Sidney Carton, and made up his mind again, saying, "The problem is over, I'm going to work soon, otherwise I'll be late. You just said you have a suggestion, just say it ...However, there is no need to make such a request to me. If I am required to take advantage of my position and risk my life to take additional risks, then I would rather try the risk of rejection than the risk of consent. In short, this is my choice. You Saying that you are taking risks, both sides can take risks here. Remember! As long as I think it's okay, you also have a clue in my hands, and you can expose you at any time. I can swear by oath to avoid that stone wall, and so can others Yes. Now tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"There's not much you need to do. Are you in charge of the cells in the subsidiary prison?" "I'll just tell you one thing. Escape is impossible," said the spy firmly.

"I didn't ask you to let anyone escape. Why did you answer like this? Are you in charge of the cell in the attached prison?"

"Occasionally." "You can take care of it if you want."

"As long as I want, I can come in and out as I like." Sidney Carton filled another glass of brandy, poured it slowly into the fireplace, and watched the wine spill on the fire.He stood up and said: "Up to now, we have been talking in front of these two, because the power of my hand will also be known to others. Come over here in this dark room, and we will talk alone." .”

(End of this chapter)