Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPECIE. 185 but he keeps his senses. The living must be at- tended to before the dead. ‘Lift her up, and carry her up stairs. I will lead the way, Jack.”’ As he says this he leaves the library. It is not the first time Jack Ramsay has held the form of Amy Caldwell in his arms, and he obeys the directions of his chief, so that soon the young lady is lying upon a bed, and a maid at her side. Seeing that she is slowly recovering consciousness, the two men go below, and once more enter the fa- tal library. Delmar has not moved. He will never move again in this world. He lies flat upon his back, with his arms upon his breast, and the revolver with which the shot was fired clasped by the right hand, the fingers of which were rigid. It is an awful sight, and Jack, being unaccus- tomed to such scenes, shudders as he gazes upon the blood-stained carpet, while Old Specie even looks orave. Death by violence always possesses double the terror that ordinarily accompanies a visitation of the grim monster. Of course in one sense it makes no difference to the detective—dead or alive, it is all the same to him so long as he delivers the body of the notorious Del- mar over tothe United States authorities—his re- ward is sure. On the whole, aon the dismal future in store for this man, should he have lived to face the judge, Old Specie does not think Delmar so much of a fool in ending it all. ‘What’s to be done?” asks Jack, who has become Gomilchoo SS) (s(0)