There was a sharp click from the opposite side of the room. A panel slid open. It revealed a fine meshwork of steel, with a single, tiny opening, through which extended the muzzle of a revolver.
The gun was fixed in place; yet a swivel arrangement of the meshwork enabled the weapon to cover the entire room. Behind the meshwork stood Doctor Palermo, his hand resting leisurely upon the instrument of death.
“You fool!” The physician’s voice was gloating. He smiled as he looked at The Shadow, and even through the meshwork, it seemed the evilness of his smile was apparent. “You thought to trap me here in my den.
“Had I expected your visit, you would have died before now. It pleases me to let you live for a few minutes, for you are helpless.
“Fire away with your automatics. No bullet can pierce this steel that shields me. I advise you to wait, however, while I entertain you with a few brief facts. For should you become restless, I may suddenly terminate the interview.”
Doctor Palermo moved his right hand significantly upon the handle of the swiveled gun. The Shadow watched him silently, his useless automatics held in his relaxed hands.
“You are nearly correct in your conjectures,” said Doctor Palermo. “It was Hassan — not myself — who killed Chatham. I disposed of his troublesome friend, Wilkinson.
“Forgetting these trivial matters, you may be wondering how I disappeared so completely from that throne you are now occupying, and how I reached the special elevator that brought me here.
“I, in turn, am wondering how you penetrated to my apartment. Hassan must have been careless; I shall reprimand him for his mistake.
“Yet it is well that you came here. Your visit will enable me to proceed with my intended plans, free from molestation.