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. That terrible Young Person! she’s vanished. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. It was immediately opened by a man with light eyelashes and a manner suggestive of restrained passion.
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