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Sydney Carton filled another glass with brandy, poured it slowly

out upon the hearth, and watched it as it dropped. It being all

spent, he said, rising:

"So far, we have spoken before these two, because it was as well

that the merits of the cards should not rest solely between you

and me. Come into the dark room here, and let us have one final

word alone."

CHAPTER IX. The Game Made

While Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were in the

adjoining dark room, speaking so low that not a sound was heard,

Mr. Lorry looked at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust.

That honest tradesman's manner of receiving the look, did not

inspire confidence; he changed the leg on which he rested, as

often as if he had fifty of those limbs, and were trying them

all; he examined his finger-nails with a very questionable

closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry's eye caught his,

he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the

hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be

an infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character.