The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

154 REYNOLDS’ WORKS respecting the transcendent beauties of Angela Vivaldi, he soon sank off into a profound sleep. It was about midnight when the woman, who had not yet retired to rest, put on her old ragged cloak, and drawing the hood over her head, stole very gently forth from the hut. Traversing the field, she looked about her as she neared the hedge that formed its boundary; and in a few moments, from the dark shade thereof the form of a man emerged into the clear starlight. ‘“ Well, Madge, is it all right? ’’ said Chiffin the Cannibal, for he the individual was. ‘“ All right,” she answered. ‘“‘ The young fellow is fast asleep. I stole up to the door of his room ten minutes back, and could hear by his measured respiration that he was in a deep slumber.”’ | ‘And what about the booty? ’’ demanded Chiffin. “Is the game worth all this trouble? ”’ “Shall vou be content with a hundred pounds or so, for your share?’’ inquired the woman, as she recrossed the field, accompanied by the Cannibal, in the direction of the cottage. ‘““T believe you, old gal. But have you made sure? ” “ T told you last night at the Billy Goat,’ responded Madge Somers, ‘“‘ that the jewelry he wears about his person is worth a good fifty pounds, even in the way that we shall have to sellit. Solomon Patch will give that sum, for to buy it in the shops it would cost three times as much. There’s his watch and chain, diamond studs, and three beautiful rings on his fingers. Then his purse is well lined, I know, for I managed to make him pull it out, so that I might judge of its contents. There’s a lot of gold in one end, and ever so many bank-notes in the other. I caught a glimpse of a fifty and a twenty, and there are others besides, the amount of which I could not catch at a glance.’ “Well, this looks promising,’’? remarked the Cannibal, orasping his club with a firmer grip. ‘“ I’ve got all my tools about me,” he added, with a diabolic leer, “ pistols, clasp- knife, and so on. But what about the shovel to dig the rave? ”’ “T have not forgotten it,” responded Madge. ‘It 1s there, at the hut. I procured it along with the other things in town this morning. And [ll tell you, moreover, what CONNIE DOO KS (E(0)