“I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time. Ramage,” she said, clinging to her one point, “I want to get out of this horrible little room. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. 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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