He went to look out into the street.
Opposite he saw the instant confirmation of his ears.

At a bedroom at Number 35 was a woman, towel in hand, and at the dining-room of Number 37 a man was visible behind a great vase of hypertrophied maidenhair fern, both staring out and up, both disquieted and curious.

He could see now too, quite clearly, that the policeman on the pavement had heard it also.

The thing was not his imagination.
He turned to the darkling room.
"Guns," he said.
He brooded.
"Guns ?" They brought him in strong tea, such as he was accustomed to have.

It was evident his housekeeper had been taken into consultation.