Biff Towley laughed contemptuously at Jake Bosch's question.
"Not one within half a mile," he declared. "Forget about that. This is a big job tonight. Get anybody that tries to sneak in or to sneak out. If a car comes up the drive, or if anyone comes deliberately up the walk, leave them alone. That's my part."
With these closing words, Biff Towley emerged from the shrubbery, and made his way across the lawn, passing within a foot of the spot where The Shadow crouched.
Jake Bosch watched the house. The front walk was on this side; the driveway on the other. He did not know the reason in back of tonight's vigil, and he did not care. It was his job to be alert, and to obey orders.
There was a patch of light close by the side wall of the house. Watching it, Jake saw a streak of blackness flicker by. He drew his revolver. Then the dark shape disappeared. Jake decided that it was merely the moving shadow of a tree. He did not know that he had caught a fleeting glimpse of The Shadow!
A huddled gangster, crouching near the back porch, saw that same shape. His view was a closer one than Jake's. This toughened sentinel fancied that he had caught sight of a human form.
He rose beside the wall, staring into the darkness.
Then, out of the thick night came two sinister hands. One caught the gangster's wrist. The other, swinging sidewise, struck sharply against the mobsman's throat. With a gurgling gasp, the watcher collapsed. His gun dropped on the grass beside him.
There was a cellar window not four feet away. It opened inward under the pressure of an unseen hand. The body of the senseless gangster was forced through. It hung suspended; then slumped to the floor beneath.
Noiselessly, another form followed it. Then the window closed.