He said nothing, even though it was not raining. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. "But, let that pass. " "And why not?" asked Kneebone, eagerly. ” Annabel laughed gaily. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied.
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