Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPECIE. 163 in answer to your cries, spoke of the poor fellow as August Delmar and yourself as Lawrence Caldwell.”’ — The man at the table laughed aloud. ‘‘Do you really believe this yarn which you spin with such a glib tongue?”’ “Wait, my dear sir. [I can prove it. Among those who knew Lawrence Caldwell in his younger days it was known that he had a peculiar scar upon his right forearm.” *- | The other’s lip curled. He quietly pulled up his coat sleeve, rolled back his shirt sleeve, and held up the arm. It was marked with a sear. This wound looked like a burn that had been re- ceived many years before. Old Specie was filled with genuine admiration for the cunning rascal. Delmar had actually branded his arm in a way very similar to the burn that marked the original Caldwell’s arm. Such grit proved him to be aman who would let no obstacles thwart him. It marked him dangerous. “That disposes of your fine theory, my good man,” he sneered. ‘On the contrary, it simply declares that once you assumed the role of Lawrence Caldwell, you | were determined to carry it out to the letter. It was a gritty thing for you to do, but I understand it all.” “Mhen you still believe I am other than I seem?’’ ‘‘Bosh! I know it. Sandy gave me a point which you can’t get over. He found the name Lawrence © Caldwell pricked in the back of the dead man with Indian ink—the work of some sailor comrades when he was a boy. No doubt you were ignorant of that, Eomichbooks co =|