The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 311: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXIV NELL GIBSON TURNING abruptly out of Mill Street into the narrow passage that went shelving down toward the black ditch, the Hangman hastily traversed the rickety old wooden bridge, pausing only for an instant to cast a look down on that stagnant water, the surface of which seemed like black marble as the feeble moonlight played upon it. Cutting straight through the fearful rookery constituting Jacob’s Island, he passed over another bridge on the farther side, and at once plunged into the maze of vile, narrow, dark, and filthy streets in the immediate vicinage. In a few minutes Daniel Coffin reached a street somewhat wider and to all appearances more respectable than the rest; and presently he paused at a house whose shutters, blinds, and door were all green. A subdued light shone forth from every window, and the sounds of several female voices emanated from the front room on the ground floor. The Hangman knocked at the door, which was opened by a very stout, red-faced woman of fifty. She was dressed in a shabby black silk gown; a faded neckerchief, that once had displayed the gaudiest colours, was thrown over her immense shoulders; and a dirty cap, adorned with tawdry ribbons, was set awry upon her head, either through a lingering sentiment of coquetry which had not deserted her though she had fallen into the sear and yellow leaf, or else for the less romantic reason of having been thrust aside in some scuffle. She wore a false front to conceal’ the hair which years of debauchery had tended even more than time to rob of its pristine darkness; the tip of her nose was rubicund and shining, and if any other evidence had been wanting to prove her devotion to the bottle, it might have 284 EONMCE NCO KS () (E(0)