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. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. “I am frightened now. She came to London, and tried several things without any success. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. “I’m mostly self-taught. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House. "Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham.
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