The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

6 REYNOLDS’ WORKS said, “Can we have a little talk together in private, Mr. Sycamore? ” “This way, gentlemen,’’ said the miserable wretch, in a half-choking voice, and he led them into his sitting-room, which in addition to the door that thus opened upon the landing had another communicating with the parlour that served as his dining-room. The two individuals kept very close upon Mr. Sycamore as they followed him into the room and after they had entered it; and the one who acted as spokesman said, with a significant look, ‘‘ You will give us credit, sir, for having discharged this unpleasant little duty in as delicate a way as possible. My name isn’t Smith, nor is my partner’s name Noakes. Allow us to introduce ourselves as Mr. Isaac Shadbolt, and Mr. William Withers, both very much at your service.” ‘Not too loud—not too loud!” gasped Sycamore, indicating the door of communication between the two rooms. ‘“‘ Who are you, gentlemen?” he faltered forth. “Is it — is it — debt?’ and the unhappy man would have given worlds at that moment to be told that he was merely about to be consigned to a debtor’s gaol; but a secret voice whispered in his soul that it was not for debt. ‘‘ Well, sir, we are officers, it is true,” replied Mr. Shadbolt, who thought it necessary to break the matter as delicately as possible, inasmuch as he entertained the hope that the reward would be commensurate with the amount of his kind consideration, “‘ but we are not exactly sheriffs’-offiicers, — though my friend Withers was a few years back, if I don’t mistake. You was a bum-bailiff once, Withers, wasn’t you? ” ‘* What’s that to you?” growled the sulky gentleman, who thought that his comrade was carrying the delicacy of the proceeding to a most unnecessary degree of refineanas. ‘* Whatsomever I was once, I’m a detective now.’ ‘* You see, sir,” continued Mr. Shadbolt, “‘ that there isn’t a better hearted fellow in all the all than my friend Withers; and there isn’t a more gentlemanly dog than honest Ike Shadbolt, though he says it of himself which shouldn’t say it. Gay and dashing gentlemen like you, sir, will get into trouble; and with such brilliant examples as Doctor Dodd and Mr. Fauntleroy before your eyes, forgery must CORNICLIOOKS (EO) im