The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 324: what you’re looking at

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

THE STRANGLER 295 against something soft, apparently a human form. A cry of alarm was on the very point of bursting from the Burker’s lips, as he fancied that it might possibly be the Strangler who had got before him to that hiding-place; but he kept back the exclamation at the very instant that it was about to peal forth, for though his foot had come in strong con- cussion with that object, whatever it were, there was no movement on its part. The Burker stooped down, in the utter darkness which prevailed in the cave, and, full of horrified suspense, he passed his hand over the object. He encountered garments of some sort, and now his hand came in contact with another hand, but its touch was that of death! There was a human corpse in that cave. The Burker’s blood congealed in his veins, he shuddered from head to foot, a glacial horror took possession of him. He had barricaded himself in that cave with a corpse! His soul revolted in superstitious dread from the unseen body, and yet he dared not dash down his granite barriers and issue forth from that cavern, for fear of becoming a prey to the terrible Strangler who might be lurking outside. But, oh, to pass an entire night — short though an Eastern night be — in that den, along with a dead body, — the idea was intolerable! If he had seen it, if he knew precisely how it looked, if he were aware of the manner in which the per- son had died, it would be all different; but he was utterly ignorant on these points. He sat himself down in the cave, near the barricade at the entrance, so as to be as remote as possible from the subject of his horror, and then ten thou- sand hideous ideas began trooping through his mind. He fancied he could hear the corpse move, that it was gliding toward him as noiselessly as the Strangler was creeping to approach him some hours back, and the wretched man thus went on giving way to his terrific imaginings until his hair stood on end, his eyes were staring through the dark- ness in wildest, almost frenzied horror. No inclination had he for slumber now; no need was there to battle against a sensation of drowsiness, for it stole not over him. He was broad awake, — never was he more completely awake in his whole life. Thus the hours passed on, — hours that constituted one long, mortal agony for that wretched, wretched man. It was not enough to endure the horrors and dangers of the GOMIiGdoG SS) (S@)