“What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey. 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. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two.
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