Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

132 OLD SPECIE. An old crate, used at one time for dishes, perhaps, stood between the coal bin and the steps. It had straw in it. A man could conceal his form in the huge barrel very easily, without his presence being suspected unless attention was drawn in that quarter. by some sound he might make. To think was to act with Old Specie. He groped along until his hand came in contact with some object. This was the stairs. Farther on he went. The crockery hogshead came under his hand, and without losing any more time, for every second was precious, he climbed into it. None too soon. Hardly had his head gone below the level of the top than there was a creaking sound. The door opened violently. Light flooded the cellar. A man advanced. It was Snyder. In one hand he held a lamp. The other grasped a brown jug. He came into the cellar, set the lamp on a box, and knelt down. As the old crockery barrel in which the treasury detective crouched had no upper hoops the staves had fallen apart a little. The consequence was that there were interstices that offered him a good means of seeing what was going on in the cellar. He had no difficulty in ascertaining what the man Snyder was up to, €o GComichboo Ss) 3