There was a strained, eager expression on his face. JONATHAN WILD. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. And she was as shrewd as they come. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. Poor little one. For two years he thought himself secure; and, secretly engaged in the Jacobite schemes of the time, in which, also, Sir Cecil was deeply involved, he began to relax in his watchfulness over Aliva.
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