The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

THE MURDER ol red as if they were raw, her toothless Jaws wagging as if with a palsy, and her cracked voice giving utterance to mingled imprecations and obscenities, was altogether one of the most hideous objects that can possibly be conceived. “ That drunken old witch had a holiday this evening,’ said Nell Gibson, who, accustomed though she was to behold female depravity at all ages and in all its varied phases, was nevertheless ineffably disgusted at the appearance of Mother Franklin. ‘‘ Yes, she has had a holiday, and you see she has made the best of it.” ‘“ Ah! would you insult me? ”’ yelled forth Mother Frank- lin, applying a vile epithet to the young woman. “ But never mind! I dare say — ”’ ‘What is that you are muttering to yourself, you wretch? ” exclaimed Nell Gibson, turning around toward the old woman with eyes flashing fire. “You'll know, you’ll know soon enough,”’ responded the harridan, still muttering, in a scarcely audible tone, as she reeled toward the staircase to ascend to her own chamber. Nell Gibson turned in deep disgust away, and followed the Buttoner from the house. ‘“ Now, what has happened? ”’ she inquired, the moment they were in the street together. ‘“T mustn’t tell yer till we get down to the dark crib,” said the Buttoner, “‘ and then you'll know all.” The tone in which he spoke was low, deep, and ominous, and therefore Nell Gibson naturally inferred that the deed had been done and that Larry Sampson was murdered. No misgiving as to anything else entered her mind, and not for a moment could she conceive that the plot had failed and that the most terrible suspicions existed against herself. That the Buttoner would not tell her more nor enter into the slightest particulars in the street seemed but a proper precaution; and the only circumstance that struck her as being at all singular was that she should be fetched down to the dark crib at that hour. “What am I wanted for at Bencull’s?”’ she therefore asked, as she and the Buttoner proceeded rapidly toward Jacob’s Island. “ Don’t ask me a single question now,” he replied, in a hurried and even tremulous voice; for, vile and criminal as he was, he could not contemplate with utter indifference Conniclooolkks (C(O)