Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. 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. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in.
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