There was no doubt that the news impressed his comrades, who came crowding into the store after Hemming.
'They'll shoot at sight,' said one of the constables, as they discussed the matter. 'How are we to nab them?'
'Let's ask Harbor. Harbor,' shouted Hemming, coming across the store, while a further reinforcement of half a dozen police officers poured in at the door. 'Where is he?'
They discovered David grovelling on his knees, looking particularly white about the gills.
'Felt a little upset,' he explained lamely. 'What's happened? Have you taken the Russians?'
There was little doubt but that he had actually lost consciousness while the officers were discussing matters, and now was puzzled to know what they had been doing. Hemming helped him to his feet and looked sharply at his lodger. He wondered what had caused David to fall to the floor, and never guessed the reason.
'Too much excitement, perhaps,' he thought 'Anyway, we'll give him a draft. Here, Sergeant, some sal volatile for this youngster.'
They mixed the stuff before his face, and David drained the glass at a gulp.
'Now,' he gasped. 'Those Russians?'
'They're upstairs right enough,' said the sergeant. 'I heard 'em a moment ago. How are they placed? Give us an idea as to how we can get at them? Suppose they're armed?'