Had either of the men been quizzed, they could not have furnished important evidence. For The Shadow made all his phone calls from different sources. Each hour word was received from him; the return number was invariably a new one.
The vigil kept on. On the fourth night following the encounter between Warwick and The Shadow, the phone buzzed while Burke was watching from the window. Burbank was on the wire.
“Called to the fortieth floor,” came the report. “Must hurry back. Palermo may be going out.”
WORKING quickly in the dark, Harry Vincent dialed the latest number given by The Shadow. There was no reply. It was a moment that required decision.
“Come,” said Harry shortly. “We can’t miss this chance.”
The two men hurried to the street and slipped into Harry’s coupe. They drove around the block. A taxicab was pulling away from the Marimba Apartments. They could not see the face of the passenger.
“Guesswork,” grunted Harry. “We’ll follow this bird, just the same.”
The cab rolled uptown, the coupe staying well in the rear. The course led to Eastern Avenue. The cab stopped in front of an old house with boarded windows.
Harry and Clyde saw a man go up the steps and unlock the door. They drove by as they watched.
“It’s Palermo,” said Clyde softly. “That house is the one mentioned in the newspapers — the home of Doctor Brockbank, where Warwick met The Shadow.”