Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

‘Ad OLD SPECTE. Less than ever did he now regret having decided to enter this game. It seemed as though the hand of fate must have kindly drawn him on. Yes, he was ready to see this thing through to the very cna. Was the girl dead? She looked like it, and again there were things that made him believe otherwise. “You have something to wrap her in?” asked Ben Bolt, taking his eyes off that lovely face long enough to look at His PELE: “Yes, here’s a long mantle.’ He tossed the article in question to Ben’s compan- ion, with a careless nod. | “Litt her up while Ben wraps that about her.’’ No sooner had Old Specie raised the girl than he knew she lived, though her senses must have been stolen away by some drug. Instead of her body showing the rigor of death, it was yielding, such as an insensible person would be, having no control over the muscles. For this he was glad. If murder was on the programme it had not yet been consummated, and there might still be time to save this young girl, who seemed to be helpless in the midst of enemies. ‘‘A last word, Ben Bolt,’’ “SAY, ay, sir The gentleman athlete looked him squarely in the eyes—his manner was significant. ‘“Treachery means death.”’ “So I understand, captain.”’ : ‘‘Never forget that, nor you, my man. I pay hand- somely for any work done, but the man who betrays (e(o} u | Eomicbooks 3