The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 375: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXXII THE SPONGING - HOUSE In a dirty, dingy-looking, dust-begrimed parlour at Mr. Moses Ikey’s sponging-house in Fetter Lane Mr. Emmerson was pacing to and fro. , Bars were at the windows, and though the sun was shining brightly, for it was midday, its beams were deadened by the dirty medium of the window- panes, which appeared as'if they had not been: washed outside since the last rain, a fortnight back, while their inner side appeared utterly innocent of any contact with water at all. The furniture was heavy and massive, but in a sadly neglected condition; indeed, it was impossible to walk a step on the carpet without raising a cloud of dust, or to place the finger anywhere without leaving a spot where the dust was thus liited away. The door was kept locked, and whenever Mr. Emmerson wanted anything, he had to ring the bell about ‘a dozen times before the summons was answered. ‘Then, when a dirty girl with red hair and an unmistakable Hebrew physi- ognomy did condescend to make her appearance, she took double the time to procure what he asked for. If he required to take exercise, he had to descend into a little yard at the back of the house, about sixteen feet wide by thirty in length, and having an arched iron grating overhead, so that it seemed like walking to and fro in a cage. Exactly three weeks had Mr. Emmerson been at the sponging-house, raising heaven and earth to extricate himseli from his pecuniary difficulties, in order that he might escape out of the country before the forgery should be discovered. But each day beheld his position growing more and more hopeless, and refusals as well as rebuffs came from every quarter to which he thought of applying. He had induced 358 EORMIELIOO KS (E(0)