The chief's look grew searching. "H'm," he said. "Well, as I say,
anything within reason. What case do you want to be assigned to?"

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."