"Yes," he said, and his voice seemed as the voice of one far away. "In a prison cell, my son! my son! It is right that I should suffer, but surely he ought not to suffer!"
He rose to his feet and walked unsteadily towards the door.
"May I go now? You know where I am staying. If I can be of any service to you, let me know."
"And that's all? You have nothing more to say?"
"What can there be more?" he said. "You can do what you will; I will deny nothing."
"But what are you going to do?" she asked again.
"Do? What is there to do? I cannot tell; I am just in the dark, Jean, but perhaps a light will come presently." And then, without another word, he found his way along the narrow passage into the dark, forbidding street.