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.  Tall, reticently good-looking and well, if inconspicuously, clothed and groomed, he by no means seemed the typical detective that the editor had spoken of so scornfully.  He looked something like a college athlete who had kept up his training, something like a pillar of one of the more sedate financial houses.  He could assume and discard a dozen manners in as many minutes, but, to the casual observer, the one thing certain about him would probably seem his utter lack of connection with the seamier side of existence.  The key to his real secret of life, however, lay in his eyes.  When in repose, as now, they were veiled and without unusual quality—­ but they were the eyes of a man who can wait and a man who can strike.

He stood perfectly easy before his chief for several moments before the latter looked up from his papers.

“Well, Anderson,” he said at last, looking up, “I got your report on the Wilhenry burglary this morning.  I’ll tell you this about it—­if you do a neater and quicker job in the next ten years, you can take this desk away from me.  I’ll give it to you.  As it is, your name’s gone up for promotion today; you deserved it long ago.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the tall man quietly, “but I had luck with that case.”

“Of course you had luck,” said the chief.  “Sit down, won’t you, and have a cigar—­if you can stand my brand.  Of course you had luck, Anderson, but that isn’t the point.  It takes a man with brains to use a piece of luck as you used it.  I’ve waited a long time here for a man with your sort of brains and, by Judas, for a while I thought they were all as dead as Pinkerton.  But now I know there’s one of them alive at any rate—­and it’s a hell of a relief.”

“Thank you, sir,” said the tall man, smiling and sitting down.  He took a cigar and lit it.  “That makes it easier, sir—­your telling me that.  Because—­I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“All right,” responded the chief promptly.  “Whatever it is, it’s granted.”

Anderson smiled again.  “You’d better hear what it is first, sir.  I don’t want to put anything over on you.”

“Try it!” said the chief.  “What is it—­vacation?  Take as long as you like—­within reason—­you’ve earned it—­I’ll put it through today.”

Anderson shook his head, “No sir—­I don’t want a vacation.”

“Well,” said the chief impatiently.  “Promotion?  I’ve told you about that.  Expense money for anything—­fill out a voucher and I’ll O.K. it—­be best man at your wedding—­by Judas, I’ll even do that!”

Anderson laughed.  “No, sir—­I’m not getting married and—­I’m pleased about the promotion, of course—­but it’s not that.  I want to be assigned to a certain case—­that’s all.”

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?”