— Pubilius Syrus London showed its true nature after dark, when the fog was thick, and the lamplight dim. The worst house burglaries took place then, the most violent crimes, as the denizens of the underworld ventured in search of prey. Resurrection men sought out corpses for resale to surgeons. Whores whispered obscene invitations from darkened doorways. Reckless young lordlings wagered entire fortunes in establishments where wiser men never set foot, thereby leaving themselves open to assault and theft and blackmail. It was Cap’n Jack’s favorite time of day. His coach rattled slowly through the gloom, past a ramshackle collection of stalls and sheds where a fruit and vegetable and flower market squatted smack in the middle of the square. Public houses stayed open late near Covent Garden due to the market, the public theaters, the coachmen’s watering-houses located nearby. Women could be found any way one fancied here: dressed or no, tight-laced or loose, painted or fresh-faced.
