"As you have no right to hold me capable of it, in such a place as this," answered my father. "I addressed you in terms which my errand proves to be sincere. This is my son Prosper, of whom I wrote." "To be sure--to be sure." The prisoner turned to me and looked me over--I am bound to say with no very great curiosity, and sideways, in the half light, I had a better glimpse of his features, which were bold and handsome, but dreadfully emaciated. He seemed to lose the thread of his speech, and his hands strayed towards the table as if in search of something. "Ah yes, the boy," said he, vaguely. The turnkey entering just then with two bottles of wine, my father took one from him and filled an empty glass that stood on the table. The prisoner's fingers closed over it. "I have much to drown," he explained, as, having gulped down the wine, he refilled his glass at once, knocking the bottle-neck on its rim in his clattering haste. "Excuse me; you'll find another glass in the cupboard behind you. . . . Yes, yes, we were talking of the boy. . . . Are you filled? . . . We'll drink to his health!" "To your health, Prosper," said my father, gravely, and drank. "But, see here--I received your letter right enough, and it sounds too good to be true. Only "--and into the man's eyes there crept a sudden cunning--"I don't understand what you want of me." "You may think it much or little; but all we want--or, rather, all my boy wants--is your blessing." "So I gathered; and that's funny, by God! _My_ blessing--mine--and here!" He flung out a hand. "I've had some strange requests in my time; but, damn me, if I reckoned that any man any longer wanted my blessing." "My son does, though; and even such a blessing as your own son would need, if you had one. You understand?"--for the prisoner's eyes had wandered to the barred window--"I mean the blessing of Theodore the First." "You are a strange fellow, John Constantine," was the answer, in a weary, almost pettish tone. "God knows I have more reason to be grateful to you than to any man alive--" "But you find it hard? Then give it over. You may do it with the lighter heart since gratitude from you would be offensive to me." "If you played for this--worthless prize as it is--from the beginning--"