The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.

I have a good memory, you perceive, Sir Rowland." The knight staggered as if struck by a mortal wound.

Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir.

I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention." The stranger smiled incredulously.
"Well, Sir Rowland," he said, after a brief pause, during which the knight regarded him with a searching glance, as if endeavouring to recall his features, "I will not gainsay your words.

You are in the right to be cautious, till you know with whom you have to deal; and, even then, you can't be too wary.