"How did Biff's mob fare?"
"Badly. Jake Bosch was killed. Some others, too. Nearly all were wounded. That man was a fighter — but the odds were too great."
"Amazing — his scheme of posing as you. I don't think it could have deceived me, however."
"He entered through a cellar window," observed Tremont. "Captured one of Biff's men and tied him up. The fellow managed to get free, just about the time they were bringing me back from the dock.
"I'm glad about that; it wouldn't be well for him to be down there now — or even in this vicinity. He arrived at Biff's headquarters and told him all about it."
Doctor Savette became pensive. He seemed to be reviewing the scattered details of tonight's events. He was picturing the battle on the pier. He nodded slowly as though a definite thought was coming to him.
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of raindrops that began to spatter on the sloping roof outside of Tremont's window. Savette noticed that the window was open slightly.
The noise of the rainfall became a heavy torrent. It had been cloudy ever since the afternoon; now a storm was breaking.
Savette gazed idly at the blackened window; then he resumed his meditation. Now, it was Tremont who interrupted. The lawyer emitted a low, gleeful chuckle.
"It worked out for the best," he declared. "It was a stalemate; now the game is ours. We can take our time. As for that fellow Marsland—"