Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. Just let him down easy, Lucy. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity.
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