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 helpless

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