The muscles of Anderson’s left hand tensed on the arm of his chair.  He looked squarely at the chief.  “I want a chance at the Bat!” he replied slowly.

The chief’s face became expressionless.  “I said—­anything within reason,” he responded softly, regarding Anderson keenly.

“I want a chance at the Bat!” repeated Anderson stubbornly.  “If I’ve done good work so far—­I want a chance at the Bat!”

The chief drummed on the desk.  Annoyance and surprise were in his voice when he spoke.

“But look here, Anderson,” he burst out finally.  “Anything else and I’ll—­but what’s the use?  I said a minute ago, you had brains —­but now, by Judas, I doubt it!  If anyone else wanted a chance at the Bat, I’d give it to them and gladly—­I’m hard-boiled.  But you’re too valuable a man to be thrown away!”

“I’m no more valuable than Wentworth would have been.”

“Maybe not—­and look what happened to him!  A bullet hole in his heart—­and thirty years of work that he might have done thrown away!  No, Anderson, I’ve found two first-class men since I’ve been at this desk—­Wentworth and you.  He asked for his chance; I gave it to him—­turned him over to the Government—­and lost him.  Good detectives aren’t so plentiful that I can afford to lose you both.”

“Wentworth was a friend of mine,” said Anderson softly.  His knuckles were white dints in the hand that gripped the chair.  “Ever since the Bat got him I’ve wanted my chance.  Now my other work’s cleaned up—­and I still want it.”

“But I tell you—­” began the chief in tones of high exasperation.  Then he stopped and looked at his protege.  There was a silence for a time.

“Oh, well—­” said the chief finally in a hopeless voice.  “Go ahead —­commit suicide—­I’ll send you a ‘Gates Ajar’ and a card, ’Here lies a damn fool who would have been a great detective if he hadn’t been so pig-headed.’  Go ahead!”

Anderson rose.  “Thank you, sir,” he said in a deep voice.  His eyes had light in them now.  “I can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“Don’t try,” grumbled the chief.  “If I weren’t as much of a damn fool as you are I wouldn’t let you do it.  And if I weren’t so damn old, I’d go after the slippery devil myself and let you sit here and watch me get brought in with an infernal paper bat pinned where my shield ought to be.  The Bat’s supernatural, Anderson.  You haven’t a chance in the world but it does me good all the same to shake hands with a man with brains and nerve,” and he solemnly wrung Anderson’s hand in an iron grip.

Anderson smiled.  “The cagiest bat flies once too often,” he said.  “I’m not promising anything, chief, but—­”

“Maybe,” said the chief.  “Now wait a minute, keep your shirt on, you’re not going out bat hunting this minute, you know—­”

“Sir?  I thought I—­”