The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 277: what you’re looking at

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

OF LONDON, O75 without ceremony, near Ishmael, whom Reho- boam had just dragged triumphantly into the middle of the room. They untied my father’s legs, so far as to enable him to walk; his armsalone remained bound, as Rehoboam had left them. They made Rehoboam and I go out first; and then my father, between the two policemen ; for the last time he passed the threshold of his secret study. The magistrate placed a strip of parch- ment over the keyhole, which hesealed. Wede-« scended the stairs, and went into the room which my father called his boudoir. You were well lodged, Mr. Spencer, said Robert Pound, but to whom, the devil, will all this beau- tiful furniture go when you are hanged? My fa- t bac to have become marble; he walked: across the room with a firm step, and went out at the opposite door. Rehobeoam and I remained in the boudoir. I did not then well understand the fate which awaited my father. His calmness, and above all the indifference, andthe jocular turn of mind of the men who had come to arrest him, did not allow me to conceive that this was a question of life and death. What was positive and certain was, that Ishmael was threatened with some dreadful evil, and Rehoboam was the cause of it. I had not strength enough to enter into the consideration of this idea, and still lass that of reproaching Rehoboam. The lethargic feeling which the supplications of Ishmael, and: the presence of these strange men, had, for a time, dispelled, then returned with overpower~ ing weight, i was stretched out on an arme= SQN OOS colin