Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPECIE. 173 ‘‘Perdition!’’ breaks from Delmar, as his eyes fall upon these suggestive bracelets, ‘‘did you fetch those here for me?”’ ‘*T did.’’ ‘Then you made a big mistake. The man does not live who is to run down an old fox like me. Ah! lis- ten, the clock is about to strike—your time has come !’’ 3 Sure enough, a musical chime sounds as of a sil- very bell inside the costly timepiece. Nine o’clock has come. With it, to all appearances, has arrived the doom of the daring treasury watch-dog. standing erect he folds his arms, and coolly sur- veys the man across the table, who keeps him cov- ered with the revolver. Quickly the chime strikes. Nine is reached. With the last stroke the arm of August Delmar be- comes a trifle more rigid, his eyes glow with scin- tillating fire, and setting his teeth together he presses the trigger of the revolver, which is held on a direct line with the other’s head. There is a snap—the hammer descends upon an empty chamber, and no report follows. Uttering a baffled cry, Delmar hastily jerks the hammer back again, and once more repeats the ex- periment, but with the same result. A third time he makes the attempt, and nowa wild look begins to appear on his face, for into his guilty heart there shoots a spasm of fear that all is not as it should be. The third attempt, like those preceding it, turns out to be a dismal failure, and despair seizes upon the would-be assassin. (ECO AAICEl eKevo) <S (E(0) =|