" "So did I," said Winifred. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. “Gellett,” he called, “just come and clear up a mess, will you? I’ve smashed some things. 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 why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth.
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