I'm sick of the Bat and his murders." His companion rose as well, but it was evident that the editor's theory had taken firm hold on his mind.

As they went out the door together he recurred to the subject.
"Honestly, though, Bill--were you serious, really serious--when you said you didn't know of a single detective with brains enough to trap this devil ?" The editor paused in the doorway.

"Serious enough," he said.

"And yet there's one man--I don't know him myself but from what I've heard of him, he might be able--but what's the use of speculating ?" "I'd like to know all the same," insisted the other, and laughed nervously.

"We're moving out to the country next week ourselves--right in the Bat's new territory." "We-el," said the editor, "you won't let it go any further?
Of course it's just an idea of mine, but if the Bat ever came prowling around our place, the detective I'd try to get in touch with would be--" He put his lips close to his companion's ear and whispered a name.
The man whose name he whispered, oddly enough, was at that moment standing before his official superior in a quiet room not very far away.