“Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. " "As you please, Sir," replied the tapstress, coolly. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. There's nothing on the card to indicate it, but I'm a detective. “But the thing is, I want a job. 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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