“Lucie and I have been there; but only casually. We have seen enough of it, to
know that it teems with interest; little more.”
“Lucie and I have passed by it, but only casually. We have seen enough of it
to know that it’s very interesting. That’s all.”
“I have been there, as you remember,” said Darnay, with a
smile, though reddening a little angrily, “in another character, and not in a
character that gives facilities for seeing much of it. They told me a curious
thing when I was there.”
“I have been there, as you know,” said Darnay, smiling, though his face turned
a bit red with anger, “in a different way, and not in a way that allows someone
to see much of it. They told me something interesting when I was there.”
“What was that?” Lucie asked.
“What was that?” asked Lucie.
“In making some alterations, the workmen came upon an old dungeon, which had
been, for many years, built up and forgotten. Every stone of its inner wall was
covered by inscriptions which had been carved by prisoners—dates, names,
complaints, and prayers. Upon a corner stone in an angle of the wall, one
prisoner, who seemed to have gone to execution, had cut as his last work, three
letters. They were done with some very poor instrument, and hurriedly, with an
unsteady hand. At first, they were read as D. I. C.; but, on being more
carefully examined, the last letter was found to be G. There was no record or
legend of any prisoner with those initials, and many fruitless guesses were made
what the name could have been. At length, it was suggested that the letters were
not initials, but the complete word, DIG. The floor was examined very carefully
under the inscription, and, in the earth beneath a stone, or tile, or some
fragment of paving, were found the ashes of a paper, mingled with the ashes of a
small leathern case or bag. What the unknown prisoner had written will never be
read, but he had written something, and hidden it away to keep it from the
“Some workmen stumbled upon an old dungeon while they were making renovations.
It had been built over and forgotten for many years. On every stone of the inner
wall there were inscriptions of dates, names, complaints, and prayers that had
been carved by prisoners. On a stone in a corner, one prisoner, who it seems was
eventually executed, had carved three letters. They were carved with a dull
instrument, and they were done in a hurry with an unsteady hand. At first they
read the letters as D.I.C., but when they looked more carefully
the last letter turned out to be a G. There was no record of a
prisoner being there with those initials, and no one could guess what the name
could have been. After a long time it was suggested that the letters weren’t
initials, but the word dig. They examined the floor carefully
under the inscription, and in the ground, under a stone or tile in the floor,
they found the ashes of a paper mixed with the ashes of a small leather bag.
What the prisoner had written on the paper will never be known. But he had
written something and had hidden it from the jailer.”
“My father,” exclaimed Lucie, “you are ill!”
“Father! You’re sick!” cried Lucie.
He had suddenly started up, with his hand to his head. His manner and his look
quite terrified them all.
Dr. Manette had jumped up suddenly, with his hand to his head. His behavior
and look frightened them.
“No, my dear, not ill. There are large drops of rain falling, and they made me
start. We had better go in.”
“No, my dear. I’m not sick. There are large drops of rain falling, and they
made me jump. We had better go inside. “
He recovered himself almost instantly. Rain was really falling in large drops,
and he showed the back of his hand with rain-drops on it. But, he said not a
single word in reference to the discovery that had been told of, and, as they
went into the house, the business eye of Mr. Lorry either detected, or fancied
it detected, on his face, as it turned towards Charles Darnay, the same singular
look that had been upon it when it turned towards him in the passages of the
He recovered almost immediately. Rain really was falling in large drops, and
he showed them the rain drops on the back of his hand. But he didn’t say a word
about the discovery Mr. Darnay had mentioned. As they went into the house, Mr.
Lorry’s analytical eyes saw, or thought they saw, the same look on the doctor’s
face, as he turned it toward Charles Darnay, as he had when he had turned toward
him in the hallways of the courthouse at the Old Bailey.
He recovered himself so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry had doubts of his
business eye. The arm of the golden giant in the hall was not more steady than
he was, when he stopped under it to remark to them that he was not yet proof
against slight surprises (if he ever would be), and that the rain had startled
The look vanished so quickly, however, that Mr. Lorry doubted that he had seen
anything at all. The doctor was now steadier than the arm of the golden giant in
the hallway. He stopped under it to say that he was still vulnerable to slight
surprises (he might always be), and the rain had surprised him.
Tea-time, and Miss Pross making tea, with another fit of the jerks upon her,
and yet no Hundreds of people. Mr. Carton had lounged in, but he made only
At teatime, while Miss Pross made tea, she had another twitching fit like she
had before, and hundreds of people had still not arrived to visit Miss Manette.
Mr. Carton had arrived, but he was only the second person to come by.