The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

170 THE COURT OF LONDON “You can come for us to-morrow morning at nine o’clock,”’ said one of the party, addressing himself to the livery servant in attendance upon the carriage. ‘Yes, my lord,” was the reply. “What makes you say nine, Curzon? ’’ demanded another of the party. “It will be all over at five minutes past eight.” ‘ But we shall stop to see the body cut down after hanging an hour, eh? ”’ exclaimed the earl. “ Ah! that’s different,’ observed the other. ‘I forgot this portion of the ceremony,” he added, coolly, as he whiffed his cigar. “‘To be sure! We won’t miss any act in the Newgate drama.”’ His companions laughed, and as the carriage drove away, they all entered the coffee-room of the Saracen’s Head, cracking jokes and indulging in a variety of witty sayings and repartees as they traversed the inn-yard. The party consisted of the Earl of Curzon, who is already well known to our readers, the Honourable George Mac- namara and Lieutenant Apsley, both of whom have been pre- viously mentioned, Lord Plantagenet Tithtide, a young nobleman who had just come of age and just got into the House of Commons for a pocket-borough in the gift of his father, the Duke of Addlebranes, the Marquis of Brandyford, a peer of the realm, and who infinitely preferred the excite- ment of wrenching off knockers to taking part in the prosy debates of the Upper House, and Count d’Orsayville, a foreign adventurer who had worked his way into the very best society, so that he set the fashion for all the male members of the higher class, and was an immense favourite amongst all the ladies of the same sphere. The count sported a beautiful moustache, was really very handsome, possessed the most fascinating manners, and wore a semimil- itary cloak the cut of which was the envy of all his male ac- quaintances. On entering the coffee-room, this delectable party flung themselves each upon a chair, one yawning, another sprawl- ing out his legs, a third putting his legs upon an adjacent table, a fourth laughing heartily at nothing, a fifth uttering an oath by way of amusement (for he had really nought to swear at), and the Earl of Curzon (who made the sixth) ringing the bell so furiously that the wire snapped in twain. EONMCE OOO KS () (E(0)