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Gerald’s temper flared. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. I waited for them to get right out of the grounds. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. 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. ” “Very well,” the man answered.
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