Harry Vincent sat dumfounded at these revelations.
“The Brockbank house,” said Palermo, smiling, “connects — through the cellar — with an old storeroom. A box was shipped from the storeroom to-day. It came to this apartment. It contained Mr. Burke, who was in a drugged state.
“He is now in the laboratory. Hassan will bring him up presently.
“I might add that you were nearly at my mercy last night. Had I known, then, that you were The Shadow, I might have dealt with you.
“I thought, however, that you were merely another agent, and that The Shadow would arrive later. So I notified the police to wait his arrival. You covered your identity well, last night. I have kept Burke to lure you here. You may wish to know what I intend to do with him. You shall learn. It will interest you — since your fate will be the same as his.
“I have dissected many bodies, Friend Shadow. Your man, Burke, has seen my collection of brains, which includes that of Horace Chatham. But I have seldom had good subjects for vivisection. In fact, some of my experiments have been forced to wait on that account.
“Tonight, I shall be able to work as I have long desired. Burke will be my first subject. You will be the next. Hassan!”
THE Arab appeared. Harry, roused to desperation, tried to scramble to his feet. He reached for his automatics. They were gone.
Now the Arab forestalled Harry’s action. He pinned the young man’s arms and held him. Palermo stepped from the Chinese throne.
From the sides of Harry’s chair, he drew curved iron bars. In a few seconds he clamped his prisoner’s wrists and ankles to the chair. Hassan lifted an iron band that was attached to the back of the chair, and fastened Harry’s neck.