" "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. ‘He is not in England, you understand. 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. She drew a breath, and sighed it out. " "You once saw a man die that way?" the manager echoed, his recent puzzlement returning full tide.
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