” His walk became a jovial saunter. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. 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. We're two good-looking fellows, ain't we?" "Very good-looking," replied Rachel. Between the two officers, with their arms linked in his, Jack Sheppard was conducted to the cart. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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