Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

OLD SPROIE. 87 fense. For that you deserve a beating, and, by my soul, you shall have it.”’ He took from the wallaraw-hide whip which hung there for some purpose. The other laughed. “fT admire your grit, young man, but you will never use that whip. I came here as your friend, to tell you astounding facts.’’ ‘Is this true?’’ “You shall judge for yourself. I come to tell you where your dead love Florence is to be found at this hour.’’ The young man pointed toward the door. ‘“She—why, she isinthere.’”? “Notso. That lady is Miss Amy Caldwell, who strangely resembles your dead Florence.” CHAPTER XII. OLD SPECIE EXPLAINS. The young man seemed wildly excited by the de- tective’s words. His heart told him there was truth in them, and the hopes he had of late been cherishing faded like the morning mist. ‘‘Mr. Ramsay, I have much to tell you, but prefer to say it in private.” ‘Don’t trust him, sir; he sees he’s got into a trap and means to hoodwink ye,’’ blustered the stout young grave-digger at the door. Old Specie smiled. ) “Good for you, Martin. Perhaps you forget the little service I once did for you?”’ What?’ : EoOmMmichoo cS (eo)