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. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. Spurlock. I don’t play anything. He knew she had been weeping. “I have had nothing since, and it seems a very long time.
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