" "Dear mother, don't say so," returned Winifred. “It is not possible,” he exclaimed. All that is jolly and as it should be. You have betrayed me. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. The doors were closed and barricaded, and the mob threatened to burst them open if Jack was not delivered to them. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. Yet I shall think of you to-day. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. . Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design.
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