Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPECIE. 59 had but one object in life—to tear to pieces the shouls who dared desecrate the sacred sepulcher of tne dead. There he lay, motionless—his lost love seemed to be no more lifeless than he. | Yes, the old detective pitied him. It was no time to give way to the emotions of the hour. | Work remained to be done. Duty beckoned him on. Nor did Ben Bolt care to linger in the vicinity any longer than he could possibly help. “Too dangerous here. Make for the kerriage.”’ He did not even offer to asist the other in carrying his burden, but led off with long strides so that the detective had hard work to keep up. The corner uf the cemetery was aimed for where they had entered. Dodging among the tombstones, they passed around the side of the hill, untilin the moonlight they saw the opening in the hedge. Through this they passed. Old Specie was breathing heavily. He believed that no matter what came out of this night’s work he had earned his pay. The carriage was there still, the driver sitting on the box like a figure of stone. “Glad ye come—nearly froze,” he erunted, with a glance of curiosity at the strange burden Old Spe- cie carried, very like the one he had taken into the cemetery, only more rigid. The Jehu must have been paid a royal sum for his services of the night. He was another tool of the captain. Once they were all within the vehicle, the horses, €o =