“Oh, I’m not afraid.” The thought rose that, once out of here, his wisest course would be to make a quick dash for the Hotel Europe where were staying his aunt and cousin. Once there, the police would never suspect the relative-to-be of Prince Berloff, and in no danger from them he could continue his search for the young woman. “She may be here when I get back,” he added easily to Nicolai, and turned toward the door.
“Ivan!” snapped out the voice of Nicolai.
But Ivan was already at the door, his back against it, and pointing at Drexel was Ivan’s big revolver.
Drexel started to jerk out his own pistol.
“Move that hand, and he’ll shoot!” said the sharp voice of Nicolai.
“Oh, I know when a man has the drop on me,” said Drexel. “What do you want?”
“First, your pistol,” said Nicolai, and himself took it from Drexel’s overcoat pocket.
When Ivan saw the black compact weapon, his eyes shone enviously. “A Browning!” he cried. “What a beauty!”
“What does this mean?” demanded Drexel.
“That you are going to stay here,” said Nicolai.