Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

. OLD SPECIE. | 99 As yet he saw no signs of the boat, and it was im- possible that it should have passed on down beyond the Battery. * He still had hopes of discovering it concealed be- hind some bulkhead, or between lines of piling serv- ing as fenders for the ferry slips. It was long after midnight now. On South street much of the noise and glare had disappeared. Here and there were houses that were allowed to keep open all night, but in the main they were closed. The music and revelry had to cease at midnight, though the hands of crime are never tied by law, and work the night through. Leaving these dance halls and groggeries, thieves set about the real work of the night. Their business had been talked over during the earlier hours of the night, and now the time had ar- rived for the plans to be put into execution. From these pest houses go forth two-thirds, ay, nine-tenths of the criminals New York is infested with, and the most severe measures should be taken to limit their dangerous character as breeders of: the disease. Old Specie had gone over almost half of the space between the foot of Wall street and the ferry slip where he lost track of his men. No result had followed. He would not give up so long as a foot remained unscanned. Through the dark noisome slips he pulled his boat, now and then resorting to the oars, but, as a gen- eral thing, drawing himself and craft along by the hold he had upon the piling. cS GComicboo ( C | So