Customers entered，and the group was broken up. The English customer paid for what he had had，perplexedly counted his change，and asked，as a stranger，to be directed towards the National Palace.Madame Defarge took him to the door，and put her arm on his，in pointing out the road.The English customer was not without his reflections then，that it might be a good deedto seize that arm，lift it，and strike under it sharp and deep.
But，he went his way，and was soon swallowed up in the shadow of the prison wall. At the appointed hour，he emerged from it to present himself in Mr.Lorry's room again，where he found the old gentleman walking to and fro in restless anxiety.He said he had been with Lucie until just now，and had only left her for a few minutes，to come and keep his appointment.Her father had not been seen，since he quitted the banking-house towards four o'clock.She had some faint hopes that his mediation might save Charles，but they were very slight.He had been more than five hours gone：where could he be？
Mr. Lorry waited until ten；but，Doctor Manette not returning，and he being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer，it was arranged that he should go back to her，and come to the banking-house again at midnight.In the meanwhile，Carton would wait alone by the fire for the Doctor.
He waited and waited，and the clock struck twelve；but Doctor Manette did not come back. Mr.Lorry returned，and found no tidings of him，and brought none.Where could he be？
They were discussing this question，and were almost building up some weak structure of hope on his prolonged absence，when they heard him on the stairs. The instant he entered the room，it was plain that all was lost.
Whether he had really been to any one，or whether he had been all that time traversing the streets，was never known. As he stood staring at them，they asked him no questions，for his face told them everything.
'I cannot find it，'said he，'and I must have it. Where is it？'
His head and throat were bare，and，as he spoke with a helplesslook straying all around，he took his coat off，and let it drop on the floor.
'Where is my bench？I have been looking everywhere for my bench，and I can't find it. What have they done with my work？Time presses：I must finish those shoes.'
They looked at one another，and their hearts died within them.'Come，come！'said he，in a whimpering miserable way；'let me
get to work. Give me my work.'
Receiving no answer，he tore his hair，and beat his feet upon the ground，like a distracted child.
'Don't torture a poor forlorn wretch，'he implored them，with a dreadful cry；'but give me my work！What is to become of us，if those shoes are not done tonight？'
Lost，utterly lost！
It was so clearly beyond hope to reason with him，or try to restore him，that—as if by agreement—they each put a hand upon his shoulder，and soothed him to sit down before the fire，with a promise that he should have his work presently. He sank into the chair，and brooded over the embers，and shed tears.As if all that had happened since the garret time were a momentary fancy，or a dream，Mr.Lorry saw him shrink into the exact figure that Defarge had had in keeping.
Affected，and impressed with terror as they both were，by this spectacle of ruin，it was not a time to yield to such emotions. His lonely daughter，bereft of her final hope and reliance，appealed to them both too strongly.Again，as if by agreement，they looked at one another with one meaning in their faces.Carton was the first to speak：
'The last chance is gone：it was not much. Yes；he had better betaken to her.But，before you go，will you，for a moment，steadily attend to me？Don't ask me why I make the stipulations I am going to make，and exact the promise I am going to exact；I have a reason—a good one.'
'I do not doubt it，'answered Mr. Lorry.'Say on.'
The figure in the chair between them，was all the time monotonously rocking itself to and fro，and moaning. They spoke in such a tone as they would have used if they had been watching by a sickbed in the night.
Carton stooped to pick up the coat，which lay almost entangling his feet. As he did so，a small case in which the Doctor was accustomed to carry the list of his day's duties，fell lightly on the floor.Carton took it up，and there was a folded paper in it.'We should look at this！'he said.Mr.Lorry nodded his consent.He opened it，and exclaimed，'Thank GoD！'
'What is it？'asked Mr. Lorry，eagerly.
'A moment！Let me speak of it in its place. First，'he put his hand in his coat，and took another paper from it，'that is the certificate which enables me to pass out of this city.Look at it.You see—Sydney Carton，an Englishman？'
Mr. Lorry held it open in his hand，gazing in his earnest face.
'Keep it for me until tomorrow. I shall see him tomorrow，you remember，and I had better not take it into the prison.'
'Why not？'
'I don't know；I prefer not to do so. Now，take this paper that Doctor Manette has carried about him.It is a similar certificate，enabling him and his daughter and her child，at any time，to pass the barrier and the frontier.You see？'
'Yes！'
'Perhaps he obtained it as his last and utmost precaution against evil，yesterday. When is it dated？But no matter；don't stay to look；put it up carefully with mine and your own.Now，observe！I never doubted until within this hour or two，that he had，or could have such a paper.It is good，until recalled.But it may be soon recalled，and I have reason to think，will be.'
'They are not in danger？'