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But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. 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. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 15:06:59