And then she had been disturbed by the eruption into the room of Major Gerald Alderley and his companion, Captain Hilary Roding. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. 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. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. She addressed Ann Veronica with an air of conveying great open secrets to her. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood.
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