Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. 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 was very pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip.
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