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--"
"Well, you're not," said the chief decidedly. "I've still some
little respect for my own intelligence and it tells me to get all
the work out of you I can, before you start wild-goose chasing after
this--this bat out of hell. The first time he's heard of again
--and it shouldn't be long from the fast way he works--you're
assigned to the case. That's understood. Till then, you do what
I tell you--and it'll be work, believe me!"
"All right, sir," Anderson laughed and turned to the door. "And--
thank you again."
He went out. The door closed. The chief remained for some minutes
looking at the door and shaking his head.
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