The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 388: what you’re looking at

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

SHOOTER’S HILL 300 with the coachman and lackey congratulating themselves on their escape, the baronet was seized upon by the three rufians and hurried into the thicket skirting that side of the road which was farthest from the Thames. Through the deep, impenetrable darkness did the robbers conduct their captive, to whom it was evident, by the rapid and unhesitating pace at which they advanced, that they were perfectly familiar with the locality. Such indeed was the case; for they were pursuing a beaten pathway through the wood, and in which they were enabled to keep with precision, inasmuch as the sinking of their feet on the damp ground on either side at once made them aware when there was the slightest divergence from that well-trodden path. | For upwards of a quarter of an hour did they thus proceed at a rapid rate. No violence was offered to the baronet; but a firm grasp was kept upon him, in order to prevent his escape. Scarcely a word was spoken as they thus proceeded through that night of pitchy gloom; and at the expiration of the interval just named, a dim light was observed twinkling a little ahead. In two or three minutes the party halted suddenly at the door of what appeared to be a cottage, or hut, and whence the light had emanated. The door was opened by another ill-looking rascal, who, we may as well observe at once, was the Mushroom Faker, another of the delectable company whose acquaintance our readers have made at Jacob’s Island. The baronet was now introduced into a rude and dilapi- dated room, furnished with one or two benches and a couple of tables made of the roughest materials. The entire aspect of the place was of the most wretched and cheerless descrip- tion. On one table stood a bottle, a glass, a plate, and a huge knife with a buckhorn handle; for the Mushroom Faker had only just concluded his supper at the moment when his - companions arrived with their captive. “Sit down, sir,’’ said the Buttoner, “‘ and make yourself at home. I suppose there’s some kind of lush here,’ he continued, taking up the bottle and holding it against the flame of a tallow candle with a long flaring wick. ‘‘ Yes, to be sure there is,” and filling the glass with brandy he tossed the dram down his throat. ‘‘ Now, sir, pray help yourself to this here lush, and I can promise you'll find it COM ) LOOOLKS (CO)