No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Think of those days in Paris. . "But don't ever let me see them again. 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 the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. "But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you.
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