The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 237: what you’re looking at

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

208 THE COURT OF LONDON turning back at the instant, she walked a few yards farther on, saying to herself, ‘‘ I will allow him time to reach the recess ere I retrace my way.”’ By not flinging a second glance upon the Hangman, but remaining satisfied with the one which had showed her he was there, she did not notice that some one accompanied him. With the fires of anticipated vengeance coursing through her veins, and clutching her dagger still more firmly than even at first, she turned back, retraced her steps, and just as she reached the middle recess, again caught sight of the Hangman, who was standing on the footway as if waiting for some one. But a passenger was advancing behind Ernestina at the moment, and therefore she herself passed rapidly on. In a minute, however, she stopped and allowed the individual to pass her by. Another person was now also coming from behind, and without looking toward him, she also allowed him to pass. Then suddenly turning back, just as the abbey clock began to strike eleven, she hastened to the recess. At that moment a strong gust of wind swept over the bridge, making the flames flicker in the lamps in such a way that it seemed as if about to extinguish them. But by the uncertain glimmering Ernestina beheld the form of a man seated in the recess, and gliding in rapid as a ghost, she raised the dagger and drove it deep down into that individual’s breast. The attack was so sudden, and, as a matter of course, so unexpected, that Jack the Foundling — for he indeed the victim was— no sooner caught a glimpse of the weapon flashing before his eyes in the lamplight, than he was over- powered by the blow. A faint cry came from his lips as he fell back in the recess, but a louder and still more agonizing ejaculation burst from the tongue of the wretched Ernestina as the glimpse which she caught of the countenance suddenly upturned in mortal agony showed her that it was not the Hangman whom she had thus stricken, but a youth whom she had never seen before. Those cries — that of the young man and that of the assassin lady — were drowned in the gust which was sweep- ing over the bridge, but, suddenly seized with a frenzied horror, Ernestina fled precipitately, leaving the dagger sticking in the breast of the unfortunate youth. Alas! had Gomicbdooks (E(@)