The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 396: what you’re looking at

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

SHOOTER’S HILL 369 air as composed and self-possessed as if she had betrayed nothing of the contemplated -horrors. In the meantime Sir Douglas Huntingdon had remained sitting at the table in the apartment below. Cold, ice-cold was the tremor that seized upon him as he reflected on the appalling perils by which he was surrounded. Though no coward, he could not help shrinking in dismay from the chasm on the brink of which he appeared to stand. As he glanced furtively around upon the three men who were boozing at the other table, he fancied that murder was written upon their very countenances. Averting his eyes in dread horror, he cast them down upon the floor; and, behold! they settled on stains which instantaneously struck him to be those of blood. His looks were startled away from that hideous point of view; and as they swept in frightened rapidity around, they caught other stains upon the wooden wall, which likewise appeared to be the marks of blood. Shuddering to the very confines of his being, the baronet felt as if he were indeed looking death face to face. The pitchy darkness of the night that hung like a sable pall against the cottage-window, the awful stillness that pre- vailed around, the utter loneliness of that hut, the evil reputation of the neighbourhood, the deep solemn hour of midnight, and then those villainous countenances, which seemed more sinister and diabolical still as the faint, flicker- ing light played upon them, — all these influences and circumstances combined to fill his soul with a fearful con- sternation and a horrible dismay. Scarce a quarter of an hour had elapsed since he had refused in disgust the dram of brandy which the Buttoner had offered to him; but now he hastened to pour it out and greedily swallow it, to revive his drooping courage. In a moment the burning fluid appeared to flash like hghtning through his veins; it was the spark to a whole train of excite- ment which had been subdued for a few minutes by the weight of an overwhelming consternation. Yes, all was now haste in his thoughts, hurry in his ideas, a dizzy whirl in his brain. The red right arm of murder seemed to be extended over him; the gleaming blade appeared to be ready to plunge down into his heart; and his eyes swept wildly around to assure himself that the CORNICE OOO a <S (CO)