‘No! I can’t let you do that. He may have a knife about him.’
‘If he has I don’t think he’ll try it upon me. I brought this from my dressing-room just now.’
He pointed to the butt-end of a revolver lurking in the breast-pocket of his smoking coat.
‘Well, I’ll smoke a cigar in the billiard-room while you hold your parley with him. I shall be within call.’
Sir Lewis retired to enjoy his cigar, and Churchill went into his study. He found that the burglar had availed himself of this momentary delay, and was beginning to unfasten the shutters.
‘What? You’d like to get out that way,’ said the Squire. ‘Not till you and I have had our talk together. Let go that shutter, if you please, while I light the lamp.’
He struck a wax match and lighted a shaded reading lamp that stood on the table.
‘Now,’ he said, calmly, ‘be good enough to sit down in that chair while I overhaul your pockets.’
‘There’s nothing in my pockets,’ growled Paul, prepared for his resistance.
‘Isn’t there? Then you can’t object to have them emptied. You’d better not be needlessly objective. I’ve an argument here that you’ll hardly resist,’ showing the pistol, ‘and my friend who grappled you just now is ready to stand by me.’