He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. " Prudence shrugged. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. She cursed herself for a fool. 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.
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