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" "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. An Englishwoman. Melusine glanced towards the elderly dame and found that sharp gaze directed upon her. 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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