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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. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. ‘I dare say the best plan will be for me to bring her to see you, after all.
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