And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. 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. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. Stanley changed his key.
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