“He is gone.”
“What? You let him go?”
“The Shadow took him.”
An exclamation of disgust came from Monk Thurman. He freed himself from the ropes that still bound him, and glared contemptuously at the helpless Sicilians.
“You let him get you?” he cried. “Two of you? Here in the light?”
“He got you, didn’t he?” retorted Genara.
“He hit me from behind, in the dark. If you had opened the door more quickly, I would have been safe. But he knocked me cold while you were fooling with those bolts.”
The gangster drew a knife from his pocket. He cut the bonds that bound the other men, and Anelmo and Genara rose.
“He drove away in my car,” declared Monk. “He came back and tied me up, just as I was coming to my senses. I didn’t have a chance to fight him. I heard him drive away, after that.”
“Well, you botched things up,” said Genara accusingly.