They stole up the stairs. The door at the top was ajar. They could not see who was in the lighted room.
A board creaked under Clyde’s foot. Harry pushed his companion down the hall. They waited in the darkness. They could hear some one coming to the door of the room. The door opened. Palermo was visible as he stepped into the hall.
“Who’s there?” came his voice.
Palermo pressed the button of a flashlight. He turned the instrument along the hall. Its glare revealed the watching men.
Harry did not hesitate. He leaped forward, covering Palermo with his automatic. The physician dropped the flashlight and backed into the room. The young men followed him.
Doctor Palermo sat in the chair beside the desk, his hands above his head.
“What does this mean?” he snarled. Then his manner became suddenly smooth. “Ah! It’s my friend Burke,” he added, in a pleased tone.
After making sure that Burke was master of the situation, Harry went downstairs. He found the telephone, called the number that The Shadow had given him. The low, familiar voice replied.
“Vincent,” said Harry. “At the Brockbank house. Trailed Palermo upstairs in the little room. Burke has him covered. We can hold him.”
“How long?”