Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 189: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPECIE. 181 ‘The treasury authorities dare not let such a man as you loose upon the community again. You can count on ending your days in prison.”’ “A gloomy lookout.”’ “Yes, but you took those chances.”’ ‘‘And if there was one shot in this revolver of mine I’d cheat the government of its revenge. Curses on the luck that leaves me helpless. ”’ As he speaks thus he looks around with the desper- ate air of a man who has lost his last hope, and whose sole ambition lies in the chance of self-de- struction. Old Specie does not intend that his prey shall es- cape him thus. He has gone too far to allow Del- mar to slip through his fingers. Gliding around the table, with a dextrous move- ment, acquired from long practice, he suddenly snaps the steel bracelets over the wrists of the coun- terfeiter, who starts as he hears the sharp sound _and feels the chilly contact of the steel upon his flesh. , “Now, my good fellow, make up your mind to the inevitable, and appear cheerful. I have a lit- tle surprise in store for you.”’ Delmar hardly hears, his mind is so fully occu- pied with machinations, but, strange to say, they are no longer against some other person’s life, but his own. Old Specie calls aloud: “Jack—Amy, enter !’’ The door leading to the drawing-room is imme- diately thrown open, and Jack Ramsay stalks into the room—not alone, for he holds the hand of a fair young girl, the counterpart of his dead Florence— Amy Caldwell. Gomileboo gS) €o =|