But Lanyard didn't doubt this one had a dozen fellows stationed within call….
Springing up the stairs, he paused prudently at the top-most step, one quick glance showing him the huge rent gaping black in the skylight, the second the missile of destruction lying amid a litter of broken glass—a brick wrapped in newspaper, by the look of it.
Swooping forward, he retrieved this, darted back from the exposed space beneath the shattered skylight, and had no more than cleared the threshold than a second something fell through the gap and buried itself in the parquetry. This was a bullet fired from the roof of one of the adjoining buildings: confirming his prior reasoning that the first missile must have fallen from a height, rather than have been thrown up from the street, to have wrought such destruction with those tough, thick panes of clouded glass….
Swearing softly to himself, he descended to the kitchen.
"As I thought," he said coolly, exhibiting his find.
"They're on the roof of the next house—though they've posted a sentry in the street, of course."
"But that second thump—?" the girl demanded.
"A bullet," he said, placing the bundle on the table and cutting the string that bound it: "they were on the quivive and fired when I showed myself beneath the skylight."
"But I heard no report," she objected.
"A Maxim silencer on the gun, I fancy," he explained, unwrapping the brick and smoothing out the newspaper…. "Glad you thought to put on your hat before you came down," he added, with an approving glance for the girl; "it won't be safe to go up to the studio again—of course."