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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE.
the ribbon from your hair and shake it out like mine."
With a strength, both of will and action, that seemed quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a child in his hands.
"Now write, as I dictate. Quick, man, write."
Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton stood close beside him.
The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers, and he looked about him vacantly.
"What vapour is that?" he asked.
"There is nothing here, that I notice. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry !"
The prisoner bent over the paper once more. Suddenly Carton's hand was pressed over his friend's nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him
round the waist. For a few seconds Darnay struggled with the friend who had come to lay down his life for him; but within a few moments he was stretched insensible on the ground.
Carton quickly dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside, tied back his hair with the ribbon the prisoner had worn, called softly, "Enter there !" and two keepers came in.
They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they had brought to the door, and quickly carried it away. The iron gate closed behind them, and Sidney Carton peacefully awaited the end.
Out across the open country a carriage rolls rapidly, stopping at one barrier after another, while the passports are examined, then hurrying on again into the night. There is terror in the
"IT IS A FAR, FAR, BETTER THING THAT I DO THAN I HAVE EVER DONE."