lle. One
member of the tribunal had identified him; the member was Defarge. He
had pleaded hard for his son-in-law's life, and had been informed that
the prisoner must remain in custody; but should, for the doctor's sake,
be held in safe custody.

For fifteen months Charles Darnay remained in prison. During all that
time Lucie was never sure but that her husband's head would be struck
off next day. When at length arraigned as an emigrant whose life was
forfeit to the Republic, he pleaded that he had come back to save a
citizen's life. That night he sat by the fire with his family, a free
man. Lucie at last was at ease.

"What is that?" she cried suddenly.

There was a knock at the door; four armed men in red caps entered the
room.

"Evremonde," said the first, "you are again the prisoner of the
Republic!"

"Why?" he asked, with his wife and child clinging to him.

"You will know to-morrow."

"One word," entreated the doctor, "who has denounced him?"

"The Citizen Defarge, and another."

"What other?"

"Citizen," said the man, with a strange look, "you will be answered
to-morrow."

_V.--Condemned_

The news that Darnay had been again arrested was brought to Mr. Lorry
later in the evening, and the man who brought it was Sydney Carton. He
had come to Paris, he said, on business; his business was now completed,
he was about to return, and he had obtained his leave to pass.

"Darnay," he said, "cannot escape condemnation this time."

"I fear not," answered Mr. Lorry.

"I have found," continued Carton, "that the Old Bailey spy who charged
Darnay with high treason years ago is now in the service of the Republic
and is a turnkey at the prison of the Conciergerie where Darnay is
confined. By threatening to denounce him as a spy of Pitt, I have
secured that I shall gain access to Darnay in the prison if the trial
should go against him."

"But access to him," said Mr. Lorry, "will not save him."

"I never said it would."

Mr. Lorry looked at him mystified, and once more noted his strange
resemblance to the man whose fate was to be decided on the morrow.

Carton stood next day in an obscure corner among the crowd when Charles
Evremonde, called Darnay, appeared again before the judges.

"Who denounces the accused?" asked the president.

"Ernest Defarge, wine-vendor."

"Good."

"Alexandre Manette, physician."

"President," cried the doctor, pale and trembling, "I indignantly
protest to you."

"