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While this was happening, Miss Pross was out shopping for the family. Jerry Cruncher was with her, and they had just gone into a wine-shop when Miss Pross suddenly stopped, looked at one of the customers, and cried out in a loud voice,

"Don't call me Solomon. You'll get me killed. Pay for your wine, and come outside," said the man in a low, frightened voice.

They went outside. "You mustn't recognize me here," said the man. "It's not safe. Go your way, and let me go mine."

"Oh Solomon, dear Solomon! I've found you at last, dear brother! But whatever are you doing here in Paris?"

Miss Pross began to cry at these unbrotherly words, and Jerry Cruncher stepped forward to stare in the man's face.

"Wait a minute," said Jerry. "Is your name John Solomon, or Solomon John? Your sister calls you Solomon. I know that your name's John; I remember that. But your other name wasn't Pross at that Old Bailey trial. What was your name then?"

"Yes, Barsad, that's it," cried Jerry. He turned round and saw Sydney Carton standing behind him.

"Barsad!" said another voice.

"But I was with him only two hours ago," cried Mr Lorry.

"I saw you come out of the Conciergerie today. I followed you," said Carton, "and I found out what you do. And I've decided that you may be able to help me. Come with me to the office of Mr Lorry."

"Don't be alarmed, my dear Miss Pross," said Carton, smiling at her. "But I'm afraid I have to tell you that your brother is a spy, a spy for the French prisons."

"I boring bad news," Carton said to Mr Lorry. "Darnay has been arrested again."

Solomon Pross, also Barsad, went pale. "That's not true!"

"He was safe and free!"

After a short argument, which Carton won, Barsad followed him to Mr Lorry's office.

"I will not help you," said Solomon Pross, called John Barsad.

"Even so, he has been arrested and taken to the Conciergerie. And I'm not sure that Dr Manette's good name can save him this time. So we must have Mr Barsad's help."

"Oh, I think you will," said Sydney Carton, "when you hear what I could say about you. Let's think. Mr Barsad is a spy, and a prison guard, but he used to be a spy in England. Is he still paid by the English?"

"All right," Barsad said slowly, "I'll help you. But don't ask me to do anything that will put my life in danger, because I won't do it."

Barsad had more problems than Carton knew. He could not return to England because he was wanted by the police there. And in France, before he became a prison guard for the citizens' revolution, he had been a spy for the King's officers. He knew that Madame Defarge, that terrible woman, had knitted his name into her list of enemies of the people. Most of those on her list had already been killed by the Guillotine, and Barsad did not want to be next.

"No one will listen to you," said Barsad.

"You seem worried, Mr Barsad," said Carton calmly.

"But I can say more, Mr Barsad," replied Carton.

"The best thing for your sister, Mr Barsad," said Carton smoothly, "is not to have a brother like you. I think I will inform the Tribunal that I suspect you of spying for England. You will be condemned at once, I am sure."

The spy turned to Mr Lorry. "Miss Pross is my sister, sir. Would you send her brother to his death, sir?"

"Not much," replied Carton, "but if it goes badly for Darnay tomorrow, I can visit him once. It's all I could do."

"I never said it would."

"You're a guard at the Conciergerie prison, where Darnay is, aren't you?" said Carton. "Come, let us talk privately in the next room."

Sydney Carton felt very sorry for Mr Lorry. "You're a good friend of Dr Manette and his daughter, but don't tell them about me or this meeting. It can't help Lucie." He paused. "Will you go back to London soon?"

When Mr Carton returned alone, Mr Lorry asked what he had done.

"But that will not save him," cried Mr Lorry sadly.

Mr Lorry was an old man now, with a life of hard work behind him. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he could do nothing to help Lucie and her father now.

Later that night Sydney Carton visited a shop in a quiet corner of Paris. He wrote on a piece of paper the names of several powders and gave it to the shopkeeper.

"Yes, my work for Tellson's Bank here is finished. I have the necessary papers to leave Paris. I was ready to go tomorrow."

"Then don't change your plans," said Carton, very seriously.

"For you, citizen?" asked the shopkeeper.

"Yes, for me."

"You must be careful, citizen Keep these things separate. You know what happens if you put them together."

"Perfectly," replied Carton.

He spent the rest of that night walking the streets of Paris. He watched the moon rise in the sky, he listened to the sounds of the River Seine flowing through the heart of the city, and he thought calmly about the past, and the future. He thought about all the deaths that the city had already seen… and he thought about Lucie's gentle, loving face and her sad, sad eyes.