His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. ‘Well, young man,’ he said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. As it is not, however, our intention to furnish a complete catalogue of these curiosities, we shall merely mention that in front of them lay a large and sharp knife, once the property of the public executioner, and used by him to dissever the limbs of those condemned to death for high-treason; together with an immense two-pronged flesh-fork, likewise employed by the same terrible functionary to plunge the quarters of his victims in the caldrons of boiling tar and oil.
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