Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Chapter XXXIX

THE GAME MADE

W

hile Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were

in the adjoining dark room, speaking so low that not a

sound was heard, Mr. Lorry looked at Jerry in

considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest tradesman’s

manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he

changed the leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of

those limbs, and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails

with a very questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr.

Lorry’s eye caught his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of

short cough requiring the hollow of a hand before it, which is

seldom, if ever, known to be an infirmity attendant on perfect

openness of character.

“Jerry,” said Mr. Lorry. “Come here.”

Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders

in advance of him.

“What have you been, besides a messenger?”

After some cogitation, accompanied with an intent look at his

patron, Mr. Cruncher conceived the luminous idea of replying,

“Agricultooral character.”

“My mind misgives me much,” said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking

a forefinger at him, “that you have used the respectable and great

house of Tellson’s as a blind, and that you have had an unlawful

occupation of an infamous description. If you have, don’t e