ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. Lord, I am sixty. Nigel Ennison was he. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. ’ She was about to develop this theme, when Jack’s gaze became fixed, and his expression changed. Answering him was agonizing.
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