To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video
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. “If she is borrowing money,” said Miss Stanley, “she MUST be getting into debt. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ2LjE3Ni44OCAtIDIyLTA5LTIwMjQgMDg6MjU6NDUgLSA5NTgwNzg2MTE=
This video was uploaded to southwestbyways.info on 19-09-2024 01:01:15
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10