Chapter-14
It was 1792 three years later, but still the revolution raged. France no longer had a king and a queen, and most of the nobility had fled to England and other countries. A favourite gathering place for the French noblemen was Tellson’s Bank in London. As the revolution had neared, many sent their money and jewels to the bank’s London office for safekeeping.
At Tellson’s office in Paris, which was a city in chaos, there was fear that rampaging mobs would break in and destroy important papers. Someone from the London office had to journey to Paris to see that the bank’s papers and records were protected or hidden, for it was nearly impossible to get them out of France.
Jarvis Lorry offered to go.
“I wish I could go in your place,” said Charles Darnay to the banker, “The trip is long and difficult, especially in winter. Paris is in great disorder, and you might be in danger.”
“Me in danger?” cried Mr. Lorry in surprise.
“No, Charles, you would be, for you are French by birth and a nobleman too, and you left your native land to live in England. Imagine how frightened Lucie would be if she ever dreamed that you were thinking of going to Paris!”
“I thought that perhaps I might be able to persuade the revolutionaries to be less violent.”
“Enough, Charles!” interrupted Mr. Lorry. “I am going. I am leaving tonight.”
“Alone?”
“I’m taking Jerry Cruncher with me.”
Just then, a bank clerk approached Mr. Lorry’s desk with a letter. As he handed it to the banker, Charles saw the writing on the front.
Urgent! To be forwarded to the Monsieur who used to be known as the Marquis St. Evremonde of France.
Charles paled. No one except Dr. Manette, to whom he had confided his secret on the morning of his wedding, knew his real name. Not Lucie, not Mr. Lorry—no one!
Mr. Lorry looked at the letter, then explained to Charles, “For weeks I have been asking every Frenchman I know, but no one can tell me where this Marquis St. Evremonde can be found.”
Charles turned to Mr. Lorry. “I know the fellow,” he said quietly, “I will deliver the letter.”
Returning home quickly, Charles locked himself in his study and opened the letter. It was from Theophile Gabelle, the keeper of the posting house in the village whose land was owned by the St. Evremonde family. It read:
“Monsieur, formerly the Marquis, having long been in danger of my life at the hands of the villagers, I have been seized and brought to Paris, to the Prison of the Abbaye. I will have a trial and surely be sentenced to die. My crime is said to be treason against the people, treason because I have served you. They don’t listen when I tell them that you were on their side and that you ordered me not to collect rent from them and even to return the taxes they paid to your uncle and to your father. I pray that you will return and save me. I beg you to help me, to be true to me as I have been to you.
Your suffering servant, Gabelle”
Having read the letter Charles got upset and disappointed. He had full sympathy for his old servant whose only crime was that he had to abide by his master’s orders. Charles was chilled to bone. He was shuddering with fear. His innocent servant’s life was in danger. He was on the brink of death. If something own had not been done, Charles would have been put to death.
Charles made a decision at that moment—he would return to France, not only to save his loyal servant, but to restore his good name as well. But no one would know of his plans, not even Lucie, until he was gone.