This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. ” Anna nodded. 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 could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.