"You are lying," stated the detective, his eyes darkening with a special scowl reserved for criminals of the worst sort. The smooth, dapper smile of the man on the receiving end of the interrogation only broadened.

"I suppose you have proof, Mr. Wayne, of my allege fabrication? As I told you and the Constabulary and Scotland Yard and every other bloody detective in Her Majesty's Kingdom, Winston here attacked my person, intending to do me bodily harm. He would surely have rent me limb from limb had I not, after having been knocked down perilously close to the fireplace in my study, grabbed a poker stick and stabbed him through with it. That is simply all there is to tell. Now I of course did not intend for my dear brother Winston to die, but as it stands I'm willing to live with that, considering I acted in self-defense."

Bruce looked at the two Constables in the room, disappointed that they were foolish enough to consider that Marcus Jeffries might actually be telling the truth. The holes in his recounting were legion, and even a simpleton could have spotted them. He backed away from the table, lulling Marcus into a sense of false security. "So, you are saying that you were beneath your brother at the time that you impaled him?"

Marcus scowled at Detective Wayne's choice of words. "Yes."

"Facing him?"

"Yes."

"You lie on both counts. The wound that killed him was inflicted from behind, and at a downward angle. He is a full eight inches taller than you, Mr. Jeffries I find it hard to believe that even a man of your talents could inflict a downward blow into a man's back while he is charging you and you are facing him."

"Is that so? Tell me, how can you prove the wound was inflicted from behind?"

"Simple science. Had you stabbed Winston whilst he was facing you, the poker surely would have pushed out the skin and other bodily components in its way through the exit wound in his back. Of course, this type of exit wound was on Winston's chest, not his back."

"Circumstantial fluff," Marcus sputtered, his calm demeanor evaporating.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless, these fine officers of the law are now going to take you into custody for now. You may argue your innocence in front of a judge when your court date is set. Perhaps you will have more luck convincing him."

And so, with a quick nod and a tip of his hat, Bruce Thomas Wayne was on his way.

Lady Diana Princeton was most certainly a recognizable figure in the community, the daughter of its two richest aristocrats and a ravishing beauty to boot. With long, lustrous dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a host of other compelling features, Lady Diana was the envy of all the local young women as well as the desire of most of the young men. Most men would certainly be delighted to find such a beautiful woman in his home.

Bruce Wayne was merely annoyed.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, barely managing to temper his voice. Of all things that he valued most, it was the privacy of his inner sanctum, the Wayne House (jokingly referred to as the Bats' Cave because of the many flying rodents that inhabited the place).

Diana, who was outrageously seated at his very own desk, peered at him demurely over the top of the book she was reading from his study. "Interesting," she said as she scanned the pages. "I must say, Sir Wayne, that this is truly remarkable reading that you have in your library. 'Fingerprinting?' 'Ballistics?'. . .most fascinating indeed."

Bruce was at a complete loss what to say, everything that came to mind being words he would surely regret later. Still, who could blame. The temerity . . .prancing into his study and perusing his books. He'd never met a woman with such gall.

"I assure you sir," said a familiar voice, "that her reasons for being here more than merit your time."

"Alfred," Bruce said, turning. 'Why did you let her in?"

"He didn't," Diana answered. "Surely a detective such as yourself has heard of picking locks."

Bruce scowled, somewhat surprised that his legendary glare which made criminals whimper in fear had absolutely no effect on Diana Princeton. "The place come if you wish to hire my services is my office, not my home," he said. "Come back tomorrow."

"You weren't there, and it is past closing hours already. I cannot wait until the morrow, as this is a matter of utmost importance. Please, take a seat and I will explain.

Bruce was struck at the irony of it, even as he pulled up a stool. A woman he'd barely just met was sitting in his house giving him orders, a situation that made him uncomfortable from the start. That, and the fact that despite his own formidable resolve he was finding himself ever so slightly entranced by Lady Diana's beauty. He had seen her before, of course, but never this close or while carrying on a conversation. The sooner she was gone, he decided, the better.

"It all began around a month ago," she was saying. "My mother, long an activist for the rights of women founded an organization known as Daughters of the Amazon. "The Amazons were-"

"A society comprised solely of warrior women, led by Queen Hippolyta. In the Greek myth, they practiced the removal of one breast, so as to better improve skills with the bow and arrow."

Diana blushed. "I can assure you that my mother's organization does not take after the traditional Amazons in all respects."

"I should hope not. A society filled only with women is ridiculous in the extreme. It would topple within a day, as its armies would doubtless idle their time away spreading gossip and drinking tea or embroidery or some other such nonsense."

"I take it you don't think much of women."

"On the contrary, I think very much of them. I simply don't go as far as to believe that roles clearly intended for men should be taken up by women."

Diana frowned. "For someone so progressive concerning science and detection, your thinking is remarkably backwards when it concerns other matters. Times are changing, Mr. Wayne. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday, one's gender will not define their place in life, what they can or cannot do."

"Perhaps, regardless, that is a debate for another day and another person, one much more tolerant of impudent women breaking into their offices than I am. Now, as I recall, you were supposed to be telling me what exactly brought you to my door."

"Ah. Yes. Well, my mother formed Daughters of the Amazon and organized the first meeting about a month ago. There were about two dozen ladies in attendance, all very excited at the talk of being able to own property, divorce, vote, earn equal wages, etcetera."

"I sounds to me as though the service of a psychiatrist are needed, not a detective."

Diana gave a humorless smile. "A detective," she said, "is needed because two days ago, three of our members were found beaten, violated, and murdered in a most humiliating and gruesome manner."

Bruce's expression instantly became sober. "This is terrible," he said, "but wouldn't the Constabulary or Scotland Yard be more suited to this type of job."

"Unfortunately, not. This murderer confounds them at every turn, leaving only a singular clue: the Joker from a deck of cards. Your skills are undisputed and your accomplishments as a detective legendary. If anyone were to be able to help in this matter, it would be you."

An empty maw burrowed into Bruce's mind as he realized the implications. The Joker . . .the same card that had been left on the body of his brutally murdered parents. Jackson Cale, the disgruntled circus clown responsible for their robbery and murder had been hanged, so surely it couldn't be him. Whoever it was, though, left an identical calling card.

"This," he said, his mouth dry, "is certainly a most grievous situation. I will gladly take your case."

The smile that he received from her was ample reward. Tearing his gaze away from his unexpected visitor, he turned to regard his butler who had watched the entire conversation. "Alfred," he said, "Prepare my cane, and toolbelt. Tomorrow, I shall begin investigating into the matter."

Diana nodded graciously. "Thank you, Sir Wayne. I am sure that with your help, this Joker may be brought to justice once and for all." With that, she bade him goodbye and departed into the night.