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With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and

action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these

changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his

hands.

"Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished,

it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always

failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of

mine."

"Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that,

refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your

hand steady enough to write?"

"It was when you came in."

"Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend,

quick!"

Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the

table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close

beside him.

"Write exactly as I speak."

"To whom do I address it?"

"To no one." Carton still had his hand in his breast.

"Do I date it?"

"No."