"Yes, unhappily."
"I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a place for me. Take my arm, sir."
Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets.
A few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry's destination.
Carton left him there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate again when it was shut, and touched it.
He had heard of her going to the prison every day.
"She came out here," he said, looking about him, "turned this way, must have trod on these stones often.
Let me follow in her steps."
It was ten o'clock at night when he stood before the prison of La Force, where she had stood hundreds of times. A little wood-sawyer, having closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-door.
"Good night, citizen," said Sydney Carton, pausing in going by; for, the man eyed him inquisitively.