Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

BA OLD SPECIE. day in the year a man gets such a chance to feather his own nest.”’ The other growled something. He was bending over the coffin. “Tt stands to reason a man like yer boss ain’t in a game like this unless the stakes is mighty high— ain’t it so?’’ “Reckon it am.’ “That bein’ the case, he’d pay well to get the girl in his hands again—thousands on thousands of see lars, I reckon.’ He was tempting the other with a purpose. It might mean Amy’s life. Ben Bolt would, and he wouldn’t—that is, his spirit was willing enough, but the flesh proved igo weak to try it. He feared his master. That was the truth of the matter. “Say no more, Caddy. I’m above temptation. The captain trusts me, and I don’t go back on him.”’ Very fine words these, but Old Specie knew well they did not come from a heart that was ready to do right. ‘‘Needs must when the devil drives.’’ He thought it best to say no more. If Ben Bolt would not do anything to save the life of the young girl, then perhaps he might himself ac- complish it. Aman so accustomed to meeting emergencies as himself ought to be able to do something in this line. At any rate he was advancing, and step by step unearthing the plot which the gentleman athlete in the Fifth avenue mansion had arranged with such care for detail, a plot the like of which Old Specie =} 7 = comicbooks (E(0)