Mr. Carton，who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court，changed neither his place nor his attitude，even in this excitement.While his learned friend，Mr.Stryver，massing his papers before him，whispered with those who sat near，and from time to time glanced anxiously at the jury；while all the spectators moved more or less，and grouped themselves anew；while even my Lord himself arose from his seat，and slowly paced up and down his platform，not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish；this one man sat leaning back，with his torn gown half off him，his untidy wig put on just as it happened to light on his head after its removal，his hands in his pockets，and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all day.Something especially reckless in his demeanour，not only gavehim a disreputable look，but so diminished the strong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to the prisoner（which his momentary earnestness，when they were compared together，had strengthened），that many of the lookers-on，taking note of him now，said to one another they would hardly have thought the two were so alike.Mr.Cruncher made the observation to his next neighbour，and added，'I'd hold a half a guinea that he don't get no law-work to do.Don't look like the sort of one to get any，do he？'
Yet，this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he appeared to take in；for now，when Miss Manette's head dropped upon her father's breast，he was the first to see it，and to say audibly：'Officer！look to that young lady.Help the gentleman to take her out.Don't you see she will fall！'
There was much commiseration for her as she was removed，and much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to him，to have the days of his imprisonment recalled.He had shown strong internal agitation when he was questioned，and that pondering or brooding look which made him old，had been upon him，like a heavy cloud，ever since.As he passed out，the jury，who had turned back and paused a moment，spoke，through their foreman.
They were not agreed，and wished to retire. My Lord（perhaps with George Washington on his mind）showed some surprise that they were not agreed，but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward，and retired himself.The trial had lasted all day，and the lamps in the court were now being lighted.It began to be rumoured that the jury would be out a long while.The spectators dropped off to get refreshment，and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock，and sat down.
Mr. Lorry，who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out，now reappeared，and beckoned to Jerry：who，in the slackened interest，could easily get near him.
'Jerry，if you wish to take something to eat，you can. But，keep in the way.You will be sure to hear when the jury come in.Don't be a moment behind them，for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank.You are the quickest messenger I know，and you will get to Temple Bar long before I can.'
Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle，and he knuckled it in acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr.Carton came up at the moment，and touched Mr.Lorry on the arm.
'How is the young lady？'
'She is greatly distressed；but her father is comforting her，and she feels the better for being out of court.'
'I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentleman like you to be seen speaking to him publicly，you know.'
Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point in his mind，and Mr.Carton made his way to the outside of the bar.The way out of court lay in that direction，and Jerry followed him，all eyes，ears，and spikes.
'Mr. Darnay！'
The prisoner came forward directly.
'You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness，Miss Manette. She will do very well.You have seen the worst of her agitation.'
'I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so for me，with my fervent acknowledgments？'
'Yes，I could. I will，if you ask it.'
Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent.He stood，half turned from the prisoner，lounging with his elbow against the bar.
'I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.'
'What，'said Carton，still only half turned towards him，'do you expect，Mr. Darnay？'
'The worst.'
'It's the wisest thing to expect，and the likeliest. But I think their withdrawing is in your favour.'
Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed，Jerry heard no more：but left them—so like each other in feature，so unlike each other in manner—standing side by side，both reflected in the glass above them.
An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded passages below，even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. The hoarse messenger，uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that refection，had dropped into a doze，when a loud murmur and a rapid tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court，carried him along with them.
'Jerry！Jerry！'Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there.
'Here，sir！It's a fight to get back again. Here I am，sir！'
Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng.'Quick！Have you got it？'
'Yes，sir！'
Hastily written on the paper was the word'ACQUITTED.'
'If you had sent the message，'Recalled to Life，'again，'muttered Jerry，as he turned，'I should have known what youmeant，this time.'
He had no opportunity of saying，or so much as thinking，anything else，until he was clear of the Old Bailey；for，the crowd came pouring out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs，and a loud buzz swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search of other carrion.
