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. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. Very well.
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