She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. Spurlock slept on. "Something's wrong. 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.
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