“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. We did not know where to send … in case you died. 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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