Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Wood brought up. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. 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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