A Tale of Two Cities Page #5

by the build of their syllables...

...are manifestly villains.

Just as the other fellow...

The... The defendant,

what was his name?

Darnay. Charles Darnay.

Equally, manifestly a gentleman.

But you can't convict a man on syllables,

on the sound of his name.

Barsad.

Barsad.

I seem to know that name.

Wasn't he involved in

a treason case once before?

Barsad. Yes, he was.

I believe we've uncovered

something here, Carton.

Well, Mr. Darnay, fate and Mr. Barsad

have it that I should handle your case.

Your life is in my hands.

I may lead you to fortune or the grave.

Who knows, and who cares?

I wish you'd stop drinking, or I wouldn't

give much for Mr. Darnay's fortune.

You know, I shouldn't wonder

but that Cruncher...

...Jerry Cruncher,

knows this fellow Barsad.

I think I'll call on Jerry.

I can't have you hobnobbing

with a fellow like him.

Why, he's a grave robber.

Now, a man who employs me

shouldn't be a snob.

But he's a grave robber.

You don't discern the facts.

The very pith and marrow escape you.

Do you know the most interesting

thing to me?

Saving an innocent man

from a horrible death.

No. It's that Cruncher probably knows

the tavern that Barsad drinks at.

That means I can pursue this case

in a congenial atmosphere.

You're in luck, Stryver.

I'll lay you a wager.

I'll drink you a victory.

Oh, dear Lord,

don't let him be a grave robber.

Have mercy on us.

Don't let him be a grave robber.

Oh, dear God...

Bust me if she ain't at it again.

Flopping yourself down

and praying against my prosperity.

Oh, Jerry, how can I keep from praying...

...now that I know

what your real business is?

Listen, Aggerawayter, I won't

have me wittles blessed off

me table by your praying.

A grave robber.

Don't say that word.

I'm a resurrectionist, that's what I am.

Doing a service for the medical profession,

besides making a bit of money for myself.

So that's why your fingers

is always rusty, Father.

Quiet, you.

You're an unnatural wife and

an unnatural mother, praying against me.

I wasn't praying against you,

I was praying for you.

And I tell you I won't be

took the liberty with.

You've got a fine mother, you have...

...praying that the bread and butter

be snatched out of the mouth of her child.

Father, I think she's flopping again.

- What, more flopping?

- No, no, no. I was meditating.

And I won't have you meditating neither.

Prayed against and meditated against

in me own home.

Jerry.

- How are you, Mr. Carton?

- Not rusty, huh?

- Oh, no, sir.

- Good.

- You'll never see them rusty again.

- Jerry, do you know a man called Cly?

Cly? No, I don't believes I do, sir.

Know anybody called Barsad?

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