Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

184 OLD SPECIE. in the middle of the room, and sits down in the chair facing it. | As his hands are fastened together with a short chain, he is compelled to put both of them into the drawer, where lies the empty and useless revolver. But is 1t useless?- While the man struggles to maintain his compos- ure, he manages to slip the deadly cartridge which he has abstracted from the mantel intoa chamber of the cylinder, and then with the hammer at half- cock, whirls this latter around until the copper head is in view to the left. Old Specie has let his gaze wander to the mantel, as a suspicion enters his brain. He sees the line of cartridges there, and is once more quieted, when like a shot, he notes the fact that there are only four of them, where he certainly placed five. Perhaps one has fallen behind the rest. He springs forward to ascertain this fact, and has just grasped the truth when Delmar, in his haste to rise, upsets his chair. ‘“Good-by, all.”’ ‘*Hold, madman !’’ The detective roars these words, Amy shrieks, and Jack makes a move as though he would spring for- ward and stay that rash hand. Too late. The dull, sickening report of a revolver discharged at short range is heard. Delmar whirls around, and falls like a log to the floor, where he lies motionless, dead before his head touches the carpet. ‘Jupiter! she’s fainted!’’ ejaculates the young man, who has turned just in time to catch Miss Caldwell’s swaying figure. } Old Specie is chagrined at having been outwitted, Cc SS) (E(@) com boo