her confession was sold for
twenty guineas. Two days before her execution she dressed in scarlet,
and sat to Hogarth for a sketch, which Horace Walpole bought for L5. The
portrait represents a cruel, thin-lipped woman, not uncomely, sitting at
a table. The Duke of Roxburghe purchased a perfect impression of this
print, Mr. Timbs says, for L8 5s. Its original price was sixpence. After
her execution the corpse was taken to an undertaker's on Snow Hill, and
there exhibited for money. Among the rest, a gentleman in deep
mourning--perhaps her late master, Mr. Kerrol--stooped and kissed it,
and gave the attendant half-a-crown. She was, by special favour (for
superiority even in wickedness has its admirers), buried in St.
Sepulchre's Churchyard, from which criminals had been excluded for a
century and a half. The corpse of the murderess was disinterred, and her
skeleton, in a glass case, is still to be seen at the Botanic Garden,
Cambridge.

[Illustration: A SCUFFLE BETWEEN TEMPLARS AND ALSATIANS (_see page
179_).]

Not many recorded crimes have taken place in the Temple, for youth,
however poor, is hopeful. It takes time to make a man despair, and when
he despairs, the devil is soon at his elbow. Nevertheless, greed and
madness have upset some Templars' brains. In October, 1573, a crazed,
fanatical man of the Middle Temple, named Peter Burchet, mistaking John
Hawkins (afterwards the naval hero) for Sir Christopher Hatton, flew at
him in the Strand, and dangerously wounded him with a dagger. The queen
was so furious that at first she wanted Burchet tried by camp law; but,
being found to hold heretical opinions, he was committed to the
Lollards' Tower (south front of St. Paul's), and afterwards sent to the
Tower. Growing still madder there, Burchet slew one of his keepers with
a billet from his fire, and was then condemned to death and hung in the
Strand, close by where he had stabbed Hawkins, his right hand being
first stricken off and nailed to the gibbet.

In 1685 John Ayloff, a barrister of the Inner Temple, was hung for high
treason opposite the Temple Gate.

In 1738 Thomas Carr, an attorney, of Elm Court, and Elizabeth Adams, his
accomplice, were executed for robbing a Mr. Quarrington in Shire Lane
(see page 74); and in 1752 Henry Justice, of the Middle Temple, in spite
of his well-omened name, was cruelly sentenced to death for stealing
books from the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, but eventually he
was onl