The two men stood up in the automobile. Sabatini's face had darkened. He leaned over and said something to the chauffeur. They drove on through the press of people, who gave way sullenly. A police inspector came to the side of the car.
"This way is blocked for the present, sir," he said to Sabatini. "If you want to get past, you had better take one of the turnings to the left."
"My destination is just here," Sabatini replied. "Tell me, what is the cause of this disturbance?"
"Some of our men have gone to make an arrest in the street there, sir," the inspector replied, "and we are having some trouble."
"Is it the man Isaac Lalonde whom you are after?" Sabatini asked.
"That is so, sir," the inspector admitted. "A desperate scoundrel he is, too. He's shot at and wounded all three of the policemen who entered the house, and he lies crouching before the window, threatening to shoot any one who passes up the street."
"Who is in charge here?" Sabatini inquired.
"Chief Inspector Raynham," the man replied, pointing to an officer in plain uniform who was standing a few yards away.
"Take me to him," Sabatini directed. "I may be of use in this matter."
The crowd opened to let them pass through. They were on the corner of the pavement now, and the street to their right was empty. There was a disposition on the part of the people to hug the wall and peer only round the corner, for they were within easy range of the grimy window opposite.