" "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. 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. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen.
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