There was no dissent to Paul's suggestion. In fact, Cousin Michael smiled slightly behind one of his great red hands as if in approval of the idea. So, to the evident relief of all, Paul said good-night. He was glad to escape from his strange companions. CHAPTER XX Hearing the sound of lightly-falling footsteps behind him, Boris Ivanovitch ceased his investigations of Sir Paul's kit-bag and cautiously turned his head. As he did so, he experienced a painful sensation. He felt a little cold ring of steel pressed against his right temple, and from past experience, both objective and subjective, he knew that a Colt cartridge was held, so to speak, in leash within five inches of his head. For several infinitely long seconds Boris did not entirely revel in the pause that followed. It was, indeed, with some relief that he heard Paul's distinctly pleasant, though slightly mocking, voice break the accentuated silence and say: "Don't be alarmed, Ivanovitch. I mean you no harm. I am simply psychologically interested in your movements. The fact that I am attempting to protect the contents of my kit-bag from your attentions is of comparatively small importance." Boris drew a little breath of relief, not the less sincere because he was conscious that the muzzle of the revolver was withdrawn from his temple. He heard the door of the chamber close softly; then the pleasant voice spoke again, though with a slightly harder ring in its tones. "Stand up, Ivanovitch," said the voice, "and be seated. I have a good deal to say, and it is not my habit to talk to any man when I find him on his knees." Boris rose a little unsteadily and faced about, to find the most disconcerting eyes of Sir Paul bent full upon him. Still retaining the revolver in his hand, the baronet seated himself upon the edge of his bed and then motioned to his host to sit down upon a chair. For a few minutes the two men gazed at each other with curiosity and interest. Swiftly, however, it came to Paul that a man in Boris's apparent position was not likely to be engaged in theft. There sprang into his brain the notion that the man was simply searching through his belongings with the idea of blackmail. It almost made Paul laugh to think that any man should attempt to blackmail him. He had nothing to disguise, nothing to hide. Indeed, as he sat easily on the edge of the bed, looking at the dark, disconcerted face before him, he had half a mind to throw his weapon aside and to tell Ivanovitch to go his way in peace. "What did you find?" Paul asked. Boris did not even blink his heavy-lidded eyes. "Nothing," he said. "Yet," rejoined Paul, almost meditatively, "you must have been here some minutes at least before I arrived." "I tell you," said Boris, almost earnestly, "that I found nothing." "That is to say," said Paul, "nothing which you could turn to your own good account." Boris smiled a sour yet demure little smile. "Precisely," he said evenly.