Such is cosmopolitan New York.
The palace often touches the hovel.
Some of the aristocrats up town can look out from their magnificent houses, and survey the shanty of the squatter built on the rocks, where the agile goat browses on old shoes and empty cans.
Some day this will not be, but it is so now, and a source of wonder to foreigners.
Darrell began to pick his way through the wagon yard, careful to proceed without noise, for when men are bent upon an unlawful errand it does not take much of a sound to cause palpitation of the heart, and he did not want to have their death on his hands—just yet.
They seemed to be surveying the scene from the rear.
It was undoubtedly their intention to make some sort of a haul here.
The silver might be lying around loose, or even some jewelry in the upper rooms—men of their trade do not discriminate, so long as what they seize upon has a specific value.
First, last and all the time, what they want is the cold cash.
It was certain that they must be frightened away, and that at once.