The Mysteries of the Court of London by Pauline Clarendon — page 227: what you’re looking at

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

224 THE COURT OF LONDON in the cellar. Use it wisely, Julia — and you will prosper; act rashly — and you will be ruined.” That this note was written by the old man who had died in his presence on the preceding night, Page was tolerably well convinced; because that individual had spoken of Julia as his “ ungrateful daughter,’ — and Julia’s name was mentioned in the document. In fact, the intimation therein contained was addressed to her: and to what could it allude save a treasure? Page had it all cut and dried in his imagination. The old man must have been a miser — and Julia must become an heiress! It was evident, by the existence of the note itself, that this Julia was unaware of the locality where her father kept his money — even if she knew that he had any money at all. Therefore, if Page could succeed in possessing him- self of the treasure without her knowledge, so much the better; if not, then he could but propose to marry her — and he should become a rich man in either case. Such was the castle-building in which the commercial traveller indulged, as he sat by the fire in his chamber; and to such a pitch of sanguine enthusiasm did his fertile and active imagination carry him, that he came to a conclusion of how silly it would be to permit the least unnecessary delay to occur ere he set about looking aiter the treasure. Accordingly, he resolved to issue forth at once in search of that miserable court which had been the scene of the previ- ous night’s adventures. The rheumatism had pretty nearly left him, — and, even if it had not, what cared he so long as he could drag one leg after another ? But, then, was he not about to venture into the very jaws of danger? Might he not encounter the Magsman or some of that formidable fellow’s adherents who knew him and who would thrust him back into the dungeon whence he had escaped with so much difficulty? All this was perfectly true; but were not the risks worth running? Page thought so; his avarice was excited, and his courage rose in proportion. The clocks were striking six in the evening, — that same evening which Lord Florimel passed with Pauline, and on which Mrs. Brace took Caroline Walters to the midwite’s house in Lambeth, — as Mr. Page, enveloped in his cloak, stepped into a hackney-coach in Holborn, and ordered him- self-to be driven to the East London Dock. At this point CONNIE OOO KS (Elo) m