The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 204: what you’re looking at

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

THE PASTILLES 181 he had made such alterations in his appeanrace as were in- deed well calculated to defy the scrutiny of the most lynx- eyed detective. Accordingly, he made his way through the streets of London without exciting any suspicion, and without attracting toward himself a single suspicious look on the part of any constable whom he encountered. He knew enough of the Burker’s desperate character to be well aware that if he were still in the metropolis he was just as likely to be haunting one of the best neighbourhoods as to be lurking about in one of the worst. ‘“ He is pretty sure,” thought Jack Smedley within him- self, ‘‘ to keep on that old Hebrew disguise, for he knows it to be the best he could possibly have; and notwithstanding what took place betwixt him and me, he can’t for a moment fancy that I should think of betraying him. Therefore it isn’t on my account he would leave London. Besides, didn’t he tell me that he had got a little business in hand which would keep him here for a few days, and Barney is not the man to make himself scarce before his work is done. Depend upon it he is in London, and if so, I will have him. My own life depends upon it. Ay, and for that matter, I would give up Bab likewise — anything to save myself from swinging on the gallows. Besides, hasn’t Bab led me a precious life, always teasing and tormenting me, calling me a coward, domineering over me, making me do exactly what she chose, ordering me about as if I was her slave? Yes, yes, I have no compunction now; my own safety is all that I have to think of.” Such were the thoughts which passed through Jack Smed- ley’s mind as he wandered about the streets of London search- ing for the Burker. At length, while making his way through a quarter at the West End, just as he reached the top of a street into which he was about to turn, he caught sight of a dress the aspect of which instantaneously sent a thrill of joy through his heart. It was assuredly the Burker, — there could be no mistake. The beard, the hat, the gabardine, — all were the same; and then, too, he was evidently selling pastilles, and in his discourse with Smedley at the lodgings of the latter he had, with coarse jocularity, declared that it only required this addition to the circumstances of his disguise in order to render that disguise complete. Jack Smedley literally trembled with the feelings that COnnicloookKks (C(O)