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. " "I'll tell you what. ” Sir John turned towards the door. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. " "You don't say so!" exclaimed Shotbolt.
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