"I forgot them in the surprise of your visit," explained Monsieur
Defarge. "Leave us, good boys; we have business here."

The three glided by, and went silently down.

There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of
the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone,
Mr. Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger:

"Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?"

"I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few."

"Is that well?"

"_I_ think it is well."

"Who are the few? How do you choose them?"

"I choose them as real men, of my name--Jacques is my name--to whom
the sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is
another thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment."

With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked
in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he
struck twice or thrice upon the door--evidently with no other object
than to make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key
across it, three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the
lock, and turned it as heavily as he could.