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The spy, well used to his business, did not change his

unconscious attitude, but drained his little glass of cognac,

took a sip of fresh water, and asked for another glass of cognac.

Madame Defarge poured it out for him, took to her knitting again,

and hummed a little song over it.

"You seem to know this quarter well; that is to say, better than

I do?" observed Defarge.

"Not at all, but I hope to know it better. I am so profoundly

interested in its miserable inhabitants."

"Hah!" muttered Defarge.

"The pleasure of conversing with you, Monsieur Defarge, recalls

to me," pursued the spy, "that I have the honour of cherishing

some interesting associations with your name."

"Indeed!" said Defarge, with much indifference.

"Yes, indeed. When Doctor Manette was released, you, his old

domestic, had the charge of him, I know. He was delivered to you.

You see I am informed of the circumstances?"