"I do," replied Jack, carelessly. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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