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He was a typical railroad tramp, turned highwayman. "Got another gun on you?" queried Lorry. The man shook his head. "Where'd you steal that horse?" "Who says I stole him?" "I do. He's a Starr horse. He was turned out account of goin' lame. Hop along. I'll take care of him." The man plodded across the sand. Lorry followed on Gray Leg, and led the other horse.
"Do you expect one of his friends to take the oath?" asked Lorry. "Yes; it is sure to come." "But you will not do so yourself?" "No." "I thank you, captain, for I see that you believe me guilty."
"We got to go and take care of Jim. I couldn't get word to Lorry. No tellin' where to locate him just now. Mebby it's just as well. They's a train west along about midnight. Now, you get somebody to stay here till we get back " "But, Mr. Shoop! I can't leave like this. I haven't a thing ready. Anita can't manage alone."
I want to catch it as much as you and" here he straightened himself "I would add a thousand to yours." He hesitated a moment-thinking. "There is but one way, and no time to lose." With this he turned and ran rapidly toward the little depot and telegraph office. Lorry wasted very little time. He dashed into the depot and up to the operator's window. "What's the nearest station east of here?"
"Think of Paris or New York at eleven o'clock," said Lorry, a trifle awed by the solitude of the sleeping city. "It's as dead as a piece of prairie-land," said his friend. "'Gad, it makes me sleepy to look down that street. It's a mile to the hotel, too, Lorry. We'd better move along." "Let's lie down near the hedge, smoke another cigar and wait till midnight.
How we grudged the snow and the low-sweeping clouds and the closed motor, on our drive of the next day! I remember little more of it than occasional glimpses of the tall cliffs that stand sentinel along the river, a hasty look at a fine church above a steeply built town, an army lorry stuck deep in the snow-drifts, and finally the quays and ships of another base port.
"I cannot say when you are to see the Princess," said his companion after waiting so long that Lorry felt like kicking him. "Well, see here, my friend, do you know why I agreed to leave that place back there? I said I wouldn't go away from Graustark until I had seen her. If you fellows are spiriting me away kidnapping me, as it were, I want to tell you I won't have it that way.
His voice was quenched by a sudden rush of traffic a tram that jangled and swayed, a purring limousine full of vague, glittering figures, and a great belated lorry lumbering in pursuit like an uncouth participant in some fantastic race.
"Oh, you will let me hold your hand?" "Hush! Yes, my poor sister, to the last." That afternoon a coach going out of Paris drove up to the Barrier. "Papers!" demanded the guard. The papers are handed out and read. "Alexandre Manette, Lucie Manette, her child. Jarvis Lorry, banker, English. Sydney Carton, advocate, English. Which is he?" He lies here, in a corner, apparently in a swoon.
It was but the inquiry of his first confusion and astonishment, the answer being obvious. If the impression were not produced by a real corresponding and sufficient cause, how came he, Jarvis Lorry, there? How came he to have fallen asleep, in his clothes, on the sofa in Doctor Manette's consulting-room, and to be debating these points outside the Doctor's bedroom door in the early morning?
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