The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

8 REYNOLDS’ WORKS ‘ whose form you beheld upon that spot at that hour. But it is clear,” he went on to observe, speaking more quickly, “‘ that the plot is now progressing fast, and that the incidents are thickening. It is time that I should explain to you something which I had not the opportunity to do when you came to me last Tuesday evening. To my comprehension there is no mystery in respect to the box. You heard, from Eveleen O’Brien’s lips, that it contained dresses which are the precise duplicates of others recently made for the Duchess of Marchmont. Those dresses, Christian, will be doubtless worn by some one who is to personate the duchess — Ah! now you understand the full extent of the villainy of which the duke is capable.” “I do indeed, sir,” responded Christian, almost smitten with dismay as the light thus dawned in upon his mind. ‘But how will you frustrate this portion of the diabolical conspiracy? ”’ . “ Fear not, my young friend,’ answered Redcliffe. ‘‘ Rest assured that innocence and virtue shall yet triumph over the most villainous treachery. Come to me again the moment you have anything fresh to impart, but if nothing should transpire for a few days, do not visit me until the middle of the ensuing week. We must be upon our guard, so as to take no step that may excite suspicion.” After a little further discourse, Christian took his departure and returned to Oaklands. It was about eleven o’clock in the night of this same day that Lettice Rodney issued forth from the lonely farmhouse. She wore an ample cloak over her dress; a thick veil covered her countenance. The night was beautiful and starlit; the air was frosty, with an invigorating freshness totally different from that damp chill which makes the form shiver and the teeth chatter. Quickly threading the lane, Lettice entered upon the road, on gaining which she endeavoured to hum an opera air to keep up her spirits, or, rather, to per- suade herself that there was no superstitious terror in her mind as she pursued her way in a neighbourhood rendered so fearfully memorable by an appalling murder. All of a sudden, however, she stopped short and turned hastily around, for it struck her that she heard footsteps following over the hard, frost-bound road. At the same instant that she thus looked back, she fancied that she caught a glimpse CORMICLOOOK