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Updated: June 18, 2025
In the "Tale of Two Cities," Sydney Carton's voluntary death upon the scaffold stands at the apex of several series of events. And a plot may be still further complicated by tying the strands together at other points beside the culmination.
I recognized him as Carton's valet as he stood impatiently waiting for Craig to read the letter. "It's all right there's no answer I'll see him immediately," nodded Kennedy, tossing the hasty scrawl over to me as the valet disappeared. "My study at home has been robbed, probably by sneak thieves," read the note. "Would you like to look it over?
The brutal episode of the crowbar the weapon which had felled me was found beside me, by the way; a heavy bar used for opening packing-cases, which the thief had evidently picked up as he came after me through Hunt and Carton's yard should not be allowed to divert me from my course. Diversion at this stage was what I could not and would not tolerate. I would go to England just the same, and soon.
Suspend judgment. You won't regret it." Kennedy was apparently doing some rapid thinking. "Let me have the photographs," he asked at length. "They are in Mr. Carton's office," she answered, as if she would not soil her hands by touching the filthy things. We excused ourselves and went into Carton's office.
If it had been otherwise;" the hand was at the prisoner's face; "'I should but have had so much the more to answer for. If it had been otherwise " Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into unintelligible signs. Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more.
The prisoner sprang up with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist. For a few seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had come to lay down his life for him; but, within a minute or so, he was stretched insensible on the ground.
The reader will understand, therefore, that in turning our attention for a short time to an account of the afore-mentioned misfortune of the three friends, we are not wandering from what might be called the main line of our story. "It all came about," so said Jack Vance, "through Carton's having the cheek to go home some ten days before proper time."
I called to mind the last time we had seen Murtha, in Carton's office as the bearer of an offer which had made Carton almost beside himself with anger at the thought of the insult that he would compromise with the organization. What a contrast, this, with the Murtha who, in turn, had been trembling with passion at Carton's refusal!
Haddon just before he was kidnapped." She seemed to hesitate over the word. "How did you know I was interested?" asked Kennedy keenly. "I heard him mention your name with Mr. Carton's." "Then he knew that I was more than a reporter for the Star," remarked Kennedy. "Kidnapped, you say? How?" She shot a glance half of suspicion, half of frankness, at us. "That's what I must confess.
As Kennedy answered, we gathered that it was Carton. A few minutes of conversation, mostly on Carton's part, followed. Kennedy hung up the receiver with an exclamation of vexation. "I'm afraid I did wrong to start anything with the portrait parle yet," he said. "Why, this thing we are investigating has so many queer turns that you hardly know whom to trust." "What do you mean?"
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