The Bradys' Chinese Clew; Or, The Secret Dens of Pell Street

Old King Brady and Alice, peering in between the curtains, saw enough. Harry had got himself into a bad fix. There he lay on the floor with three Chinamen bending over him. One held a box, another a long glass vial. What were they about?
Frank Tousey Publisher 24 UNION SQUARE. NEW-YORK.
Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office, March 1, 1899. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1910, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C., by Frank Tousey, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York.
Late in the evening on August 12th, 19—, one of the heaviest thunder storms known in many years broke over the city of New York.
The storm was accompanied by a terrific gale; trees were blown down, sign boards wrecked, houses were unroofed, sewers overflooded, and there was a general shake-up all along the line.
Of course, lives were lost here and there, especially on the rivers.
It taxed the memory even of the oldest inhabitant to recall such another storm.
During the height of the gale two gentlemen sat in the famous Tuxedo restaurant, that delight of chop suey fiends and slumming parties, on Pell street, Chinatown, indulging in a late supper, Chinese style.
One was an elderly man of striking appearance and peculiar dress.
He wore a long blue coat with brass buttons, an old-fashioned stock and stand-up collar, while hanging to a peg above his head was a big white felt hat with an unusually broad brim.
His companion was a bright looking young fellow in his twenties.
The two men were none other than the world-famous detectives, the Bradys of the Brady Detective Bureau, Union Square, New York.