Suddenly she understood. 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. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. "Now your curiosity's satisfied, child," continued Kneebone, "perhaps, you'll attend to my orders.
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