Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

116 OLD SPECIE. The art of the cabinet-maker was too much for the detective. Beaten in one way, he would be compelled to re- sort to another. There were wheels within wheels, and a versatile man like Old Specie could never be ata loss as to the means whereby his object might be accom- plished. He put everything just as he had found it, and was just turning to his work when a loud thump out in the hall announced that one of the maids was coming. She announced that a wagon stood without. Soon the various traps were in the vehicle, and Old Specie rode away with the driver. This was early in the afternoon. At four o’clock a man ascended the steps of the Caldwell mansion. He looked very like a legal lhght, seeing that his manner was starched, his figure full of gestures as he talked, and he carried the green bag some law- yers still cling to. This party rang the bell. A-maid came to the door. “Is Mr. Caldwell at home?” ‘*No, sir.’’ “Not returned from the funeral?”’ ‘No, sir.”’ ‘TT am a lawyer. Jenkins is my name. I have important business with your master in connection with the estate of the deceased lady. I will goin and wait for him. He cannot be long coming now.” ‘‘He told me a quarter after four.’’ ‘And it is ten minutes after now. Show me into (e(o) Eomichooks aS