Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. 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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