The Bat - Mary Roberts Rinehart - Bog

The men higher up waited. They had dealt with lone wolves before and broken them. Some day the Bat would slip and falter; then they would have him. But the weeks passed into months and still the Bat flew free, solitary, untamed, and deadly. At last even his own kind turned upon him; the underworld is like the upper in its fear and distrust of genius that flies alone. But when they turned against him, they turned against a spook-a shadow. A cold and bodiless laughter from a pit of darkness answered and mocked at their bungling gestures of hate-and went on, flouting Law and Lawless alike.