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. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. ’ You have no right to call yourself ‘Alcide. Let me only wear your livery. “They’d better not,” said Hetty.
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