The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

. A GLANCE AT THE PAST 145 in a jiffy, I started up and rushed away quite in a different direction from the one where I had heard the voices. Just as I got out of the grove, however, I ran against a great tall hulking gipsy man with a large stick in his hand. He eried out in a savage manner, asking what the deuce I meant by running against him like that, and then he gave me a good tap with his stick, in return for which I knocked him down with my bludgeon. But the next moment I had four or five other gipsy men at my heels, who came rushing out of the grove on hearing the disturbance. So, not choosing to stay and fight with such numbers, I cut off as fast as my legs would carry me. They did not pursue me far, and I got clear away. I then sat down and began to reflect what I should do, whether I should go back and endeavour to regain possession of the child, or not; for I now felt quite sure that the voices which had alarmed me were those of the gipsy men and not of any persons In search of the bantling. But then I thought that if I returned into the grove the gipsies would either beat me to death for having knocked down _ their comrade, or else, out of revenge, and perhaps with the hope of reward, go and hand me over to the constables of the nearest town for having stolen and stripped a child. _ So I was obliged to come to the resolution of leaving things to take their chance, and telling Ralph Farefield the most plausible story I could invent to satisfy him. I accordingly made the best of the way to Gainsborough, and joining my companions at the boozing-ken where they had put up, told them what had happened. We then took separate roads, and hastened back to London. There I told Mr. Farefield that I had killed the child, and left it in a place where it was very likely to be discovered. As a proof of the story, I displayed the clothes stripped off the bantling, and which iortunately were marked with the name of the Honourable Hdmund Farefield. I also told him about the strawberry mark, and altogether he was satisfied.”’ Here the Cannibal again paused to refresh himself with more brandy and water, and, having refilled his glass ready for further use, he went on thus: “A month passed away after the adventure down in Lincolnshire, and as it seemed that nothing was heard about the child, and it did not turn up, I felt pretty sure that either the gipsies had taken it away with them, without stopping CONNIE DOOKS (C(O)