You climb by disappointing men. 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. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day. “Experte credo. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand.
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