Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

DARKE DARRELL. 151 He took out his revolver, examined it, then returned it to his pocket, the movement making Mrs. Kendrick feel very nervous, the nervousness increasing to actual terror when her husband said: ‘“*] feel it my duty to assist you in the search.” ‘““No, George!” appealingly, hysterically catching his hands, her face deathly pale. ‘‘ No, George! you are not called to go. You will be shot.” ‘*Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Kendrick,” consoled Darke. — ‘* He cannot be of any service to me; he would only ham- per me. ‘The errand may prove to be one of peril, and I prefer to face it alone.” . ‘There!’ cried Mrs. Kendrick, with a thankful glance at Darke.- ‘‘'‘T'here is no occasion for you to go. He says he would rather not have you go.” ‘Then I yield; but still I feel it my duty to go.” replied Mr. Kendrick. ‘‘I may afterward reflect upon myself very much about it. Dll not know a minute’s rest.” ‘¢ Tf I meet with success, ll communicate with you at once,” assured Darke. ‘‘ Your mind shall be set at ease.” Darke bade his friends adieu, and plunged into the dark- ness of the street. He visited every grocery and saloon in the vicinity, hoping to find a clew, and yet not having the least idea in what shape or from what direction it might come to him. The last saloon which he entered was of such a low char- acter that he almost felt afraid. The men lounging about in it were ignorant, thriftless, ruffianly; the barkeeper was even yet more ill-looking; he was a little in liquor, and hence took no especial notice of Darke. The ceiling was low and smoked; the floor was warped and strewn with saw-dust; the walls were dingy and hung with cheap prints and ragged-edged play-bills; behind the bar were bottles containing cheap liquor, arranged without any attempt at taste; there was but one gas-jet; it was in GEomicbooks.¢co