Chapter-18
Dr. Manette and Theophile Gabelle both testified at Charles’ trial and managed to convince the bloodthirsty jury of his innocence. By a unanimous vote, Charles was freed.
That evening, Charles was relaxing by the fire with his overjoyed family, when suddenly, a loud knock was heard at the door. Dr. Manette went to answer it.
Four rough men, wearing red caps and carrying pistols and sabers, rushed into the room. “We seek the Citizen Evremonde, called Darnay!” cried one, “He is again a prisoner of the Republic!”
“On what charges?” asked the doctor, frozen in disbelief.
“He has been accused by Saint Antoine!”
“By whom in Saint Antoine?”
“He has been denounced by the Citizen and Citizeness Defarge, and by one other person. I cannot say any more. You will find out the rest tomorrow, when the prisoner is brought to trial. But for now, we must take Citizen Evremonde with us to La Force.”
While the arrest was being made, Jerry Cruncher and Miss Pross were out doing the family shopping. On the way home, they turned into a wine shop to make the last of their purchases. No sooner did they cross the doorway than Miss Pross let out a scream that brought all the customers to their feet. Ignoring them, she ran across the room and embraced a thin, dark-haired man. “Solomon! My brother!” she cried, “It has been a year since I heard from you, and now I find you here in Paris!”
“Don’t call me Solomon! Do you want me to be killed?” he said in an urgent whisper, “It is better if we talk outside.”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” asked Miss Pross, following the man out the door, with Jerry only a step behind her.
“I knew you were in Paris,” said the man, giving her a dutiful kiss on the cheek, “But it is best for you to go your way and I to go mine. I am a respected prison official.”
“A prison official? In a foreign country? I’m ashamed of you, Solomon!”
“Enough!” snapped Solomon, “Talk like this can put me under suspicion, even cause my death!”
“Just a minute!” cut in Jerry Cruncher, “You didn’t use the name Solomon Pross when you were in England. I recognize you now. You were a witness at Charles Darnay’s trial at the Old Bailey. You said your name was John…”
“John Barsad!” interrupted a voice from the darkness. As the owner of the voice drew near, he was revealed to be Sidney Carton.
“Do not be alarmed, Miss Pross,” said Sidney, “but I have the unpleasant task of telling you that your brother has become a prison spy.”
“What do you know about me?” asked the brother, becoming very pale.
“I was walking outside the prison walls about an hour ago when I saw you coming out,” said Sidney, “I have an excellent memory for faces, and I remembered yours, especially since I associate it with the bad luck of one of my close friends. I decided to follow you into this wine shop, where I listened to your conversation with some of your friends. It was then that I realized what your true occupation is. I suddenly knew that you could serve a purpose for me.”
“What purpose?” the spy asked.
“We should not talk about it here,” said Sidney, “We will escort your sister to her home and then invite Mr. Cruncher to join us in a little talk in Mr. Lorry’s private office.”
Realizing that he could not refuse to go without the risk of being exposed, Solomon Pross, alias John Barsad, agreed.
Jarvis Lorry was relaxing by the fire when the three men arrived. His smile of welcome for Sidney and Jerry froze when he recognized John Barsad with them.
Sidney explained, “Mr. Barsad here is the brother that Miss Pross wasted so much love on, who once took her money and left her to fend for herself. But he is not important now. I have other news—a bad news—Charles has been arrested again.”
