The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. “Thanks, Cathy.
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