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. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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