The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 287: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OF LONDON. 239 CHAPTER XVII. The movement of Rehoboam had been so rapid, that no one had thought of opposing him. The executioner was petrified, and stared stupidly at him, but did not move; his assistants had al- ready left the scaffold. I know not whether my father might have succeeded, had he attempted to escape. The crowd appeared to think so, and broke out into loud acclamations. Projectiles of all sorts were thrown at the police. There was every appearance of acommotion. But my father did not attempt to escape ; it was not for that he had called Rehoboam, At the moment the latter had seized the cord, to loose the running knot, Ishmael, who had put his hand into his bosom, drew from it a short poinard, and with furious strength plunged it into Rehoboam’s breast. Re- hoboam fell dead at his feet, between my father and the executioner. Ishmael turned toward the window in Fleet-lane, brandished the reeking -poinard with triumph, and cried, Thanks, my lord At this moment, eight o’clock was striking at St. Sepulchre. The @xecutioner, more from the habit of his profession than from reflection, for he appeared eompletely stupefied, pressed the bolt with his foot. The drop fell, the cord became straightened, and half the body of Ishmael dis- appeared through the opening. His face con- tracted fora ‘moment, and then remained motion ? ¢ Ri g ris : comicbooks:com