A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. It was Annabel who spoke. The enclosure by which it was surrounded was about twelve feet high; the under part being composed of taken planks, the upper of a strong iron grating, surmounted by sharp iron spikes. She wanted to turn him. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road.
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