In the darkness of the room, broken only by the light of a single sputtering candle at a table, Batman made out the grinning apparition of the Joker. The Joker was seated opposite him at the table.
Batman struggled to get up.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re conscious, Batman,” the Joker said. “There’s no use struggling or trying to move, I assure you. You’ve been bound very securely indeed. Not even you can break out of these bonds.”
“What have you done with Robin?”
“Robin is safe and sound, I regret to say.”
“Where am I?”
“This is a room adjoining my temporary headquarters. You will be kept prisoner here for awhile, Batman.”
“Why bother to keep me prisoner, Joker? You can as easily kill me.”
“You mustn’t tempt me beyond endurance with such a pleasant prospect, Batman. After all, I’m only human. But I have good reasons for keeping you alive at least for a little while.”
“Good reasons?”
The Joker’s grin was a red malicious slash in his chalk-white face. “I promised Robin that I would only hold you as a hostage.”
“I don’t believe you, Joker.”
The Crime Clown’s upward-curved eyebrows moved still higher. “You wound me by saying that, Batman. I swear it’s true. When I held a gun to your temple as you lay unconscious, Robin agreed to let me get away provided I didn’t kill you. He even talked the police into agreeing to it.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed him to do that.”
“Probably not,” the Joker agreed. “But you’d be dead now. So everything worked out for the best.”
Batman said grimly, “You can’t fool me, Joker. You’re not keeping me alive simply because of a promise you made to Robin.”
“Why don’t you trust me, Batman?” the Joker asked in an injured tone.
“Only because I know you so well. A broken promise means nothing to you, Joker. What’s your real reason?”
The Joker’s ghastly white face seemed to shine in the candlelight.
“If I killed you now, Batman, you’d die thinking that Robin will carry on your work of fighting crime. I intend to deny you even that small comfort. Before you die, you’re going to witness the death of Robin!”
“How can you arrange that?” Batman asked. His heart beat strongly with fear. He knew the Joker never made idle threats.
“Oh, by using you to bait the trap. Robin will go anywhere, do anything, to find you again. I intend to give him the opportunity he craves.” The Joker’s eyes narrowed with evil mirth. “In fact, the last thing Robin ever sees on this earth will be you, Batman!”
Laughter bubbled in the Joker’s throat. He rocked in his chair with glee. The sound of his maniacal laughter seemed to fill the room, rebounding off the walls, deafening in its hideous din.
“Hyaaa-hahahahaha-hehehehehe!”
Meanwhile in Commissioner Gordon’s office, a tense Robin listened as Inspector O’Hara reported to the commissioner.
“I’ve had every man in the city on the lookout for the Joker and his men, Commissioner. We haven’t found anything that even resembled a clue.”
“We’ve got to find him!” Commissioner Gordon said. “Every hour that goes by means Batman’s chances of survival are growing dimmer.”
“I’ll cancel all leaves,” Inspector O’Hara said. “We’ll go through all known criminal haunts with a fine-tooth comb. If we even find one of his men, we can bring him in for questioning and...”
“We’ll never locate the Joker that way,” Robin interrupted. “He’s too clever to be caught in the ordinary fashion.”
Commissioner Gordon’s face was gray with fatigue. “How can we find him, Robin? Do you have any ideas?
Robin said, “The Tune Parade.”
Commissioner Gordon said blankly, “What about it? That’s just a musical program on the radio. Surely you don’t suspect that the disc jockey Vance Jennings has any part in this?”
“No—the Tune Parade is an honest program. Vance Jennings conducts a legitimate poll of his listeners to decide the top request tune. But how is that poll conducted, Commissioner?
“I imagine Vance Jennings counts the letters he receives. The song with the greatest number of requests is the one he plays.
“Exactly. So the Joker must be fixing the selection by having his thugs write hundreds of request letters.”
Commissioner Gordon’s face brightened with hope. “You mean the Joker makes sure, in advance, that the song clue will fit the crime?” Commissioner Gordon brought the palm of his hand down flat on the desk. “Of course! I should have thought of that. It’s the only way it could be done!”
“We may be able to trace the letters,” Robin said. “I suggest we pay a visit to the Gotham City post office. Someone there might be able to tell us from which station a large batch of letters has been mailed daily to the Tune Parade!”
Commissioner Gordon was up from his desk before Robin had finished speaking. He grabbed his hat.
“That’s the first constructive suggestion I’ve heard. Come on! We’ve no time to waste!”
Later, in separate rooms at the post office, Commissioner Gordon, Inspector O’Hara, and Robin, the Boy Wonder, questioned postmen as they returned from their rounds.
Robin was alone in a small cubicle of an office. At shortly past four o’clock, the door opened and still another postman entered. He was a surly-looking man whose gray uniform was wrinkled and stained with perspiration.
“The postmaster said you wanted to see me,” the man said to Robin.
“What part of the city do you cover, sir?”
“The Water Street station.”
Robin’s interest quickened slightly. Water Street was in a section of the city notorious for its underworld hideouts.
“Have you noticed an unusual amount of mail being sent from any particular post office box in that region?”
The surly-looking postman said: “There’s always plenty of mail. People will write letters, you know.”
“This mail would be different,” Robin said patiently. “The heavy volume would have occurred only in the last few days. Almost all of the new letters would have been addressed to the Tune Parade program on radio.”
The surly postman shifted slightly in his chair. “Funny you should mention that. The last few days I have picked up a big batch of letters like that. All mailed from a single box at Water Street and Granite Avenue.”
Robin could barely contain his excitement. But all he said was, “Thank you. I’d like to make one request. Don’t mention to anyone that we had this conversation.”
The postman shrugged. “Why should I? I don’t understand what it’s all about, anyhow.”
Robin went to the door of the small office with the postman.
“This is a routine investigation. But it is important that no word leak out. We intend to keep a special watch on that mailbox.”
“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. I mind my own business. Things are tough enough without trying to borrow anybody else’s trouble,” the man said sullenly.
“Well,” Robin thought, “things are bound to be unpleasant for anyone with a disposition like yours.” But he said nothing more as he watched the postman go off down the marble corridor of the post office building. Robin hurried in the other direction to inform Commissioner Gordon and Inspector O’Hara that there was no further need to question anyone.
They had found what they were looking for.
If Robin had followed the surly postman, though, he would have been surprised to note that as soon as the surly fellow left the post office building he went directly to a public telephone booth and dialed a number. After a moment, he said, “This is Frank Moro, Boss. I just finished talking with Robin, the Boy Wonder. Just like you said, he wanted to know about mail being delivered to the Tune Parade program.”
“I rather thought he’d get around to that angle about now. Good. Did you tell him the story we agreed on?”
“Right. He’s going to keep a check on the Water Street mailbox. I guess he won’t find anything mailed there from now on, eh?”
“On the contrary. Tonight at the usual time we will mail another batch of letters at that mailbox. And the man who mails them will be someone that Robin knows is working for me.”
Frank Moro said in a puzzled tone, “But, Boss, that’s just asking for trouble. I mean, if Robin follows the guy…”
Over the phone wires trilled the high hysterical laugh of—the Joker.
“That’s just what I expect him to do! The Boy Wonder will walk right into the dandy little trap I’ve prepared for him!”
Shortly before midnight, a man sidled up to the mailbox at the comer of Water Street and Granite Avenue. He was carrying a large satchel full of letters. As he emptied the letters into the box, he cast furtive glances over his shoulder to be sure no one was watching him.
Not far distant, someone was watching. Hidden behind a comer of a building, Robin, the Boy Wonder, was standing guard with Commissioner Gordon.
“Do you recognize that man, Inspector?”
“Scotty Tucker. He’s one of the Joker’s thugs.”
“Correct. And he’s mailing a lot of letters.”
“Shall I arrest him now, Robin?”
“That would be a mistake, Commissioner. Scotty would never tell you where the Joker is. He’s much too afraid of the Joker to betray him.”
“What shall we do, then?”
“Follow him. He has to return to the Joker’s headquarters. And that’s probably where Batman is being held a prisoner.”
“A good idea, Robin. I’ll detail some of my best men to shadow him and—”
“Scotty Tucker might see them and realize he’s being followed. This is one job I must handle completely alone.”
“It’s too dangerous, Robin. You can’t go up against the Joker and his men alone.”
“I’ll be careful, Commissioner. And I won’t be alone. Batman will be with me as soon as I can free him.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’d forgotten that.”
Commissioner Gordon had not forgotten. It just seemed to him that, after so much time in the Joker’s hands, there was a very good chance Batman was no longer alive.
Scotty Tucker returned toward the secret hideout of the Joker. Following a trail through narrow streets and criss-crossing alleyways, Scotty could have sworn that he was alone.
But above him, in the darkness, he was being trailed by a grim pursuing shadow.
Robin—the Boy Wonder!
At the entrance to an abandoned factory building, Scotty Tucker paused to look carefully about him. No one was in sight. Only a stray alley cat prowled the rusting debris of this long-forgotten site.
Scotty reached up to pull a loose board down beside the entrance to the factory.
There was a humming noise. The rusted metal of the overhead door slid smoothly upward to reveal a stairway leading to the second floor of the factory building where the windows were painted over with black paint.
Scotty entered the building. Moments later, the rusted overhead door slid smoothly back into position.
On the second floor landing, in a lushly furnished office, the Joker whirled as the door opened and Scotty Tucker entered.
“Well?” the Joker demanded.
Scotty shrugged. “Nothing happened, Boss. I mailed the letters like you said. But there was nobody around to see me do it. And nobody followed me here.”
The Joker snarled. “Are you sure of that, Scotty?”
“I been in this business a long time, Boss. Nobody could’ve followed me without me knowing it.”
On the wall, a small control box began to jangle softly.
“What’s that, Boss?” Scotty Tucker asked.
The Joker rubbed his hands together with satisfaction.
“So no one was following you, eh, Scotty? That alarm box doesn’t agree. It just gave a signal that someone is on the roof of this building at this very moment! I’m willing to lay odds that the intruder is none other than—Robin, the Boy Wonder!”
The Joker was right.
Robin, after some difficulty, had succeeded at last in prying up the cover to a ventilator shaft on the roof.
“Scotty Tucker went into this building,” Robin thought. “So the Joker’s hideout must be here.”
Carefully, Robin eased his body into the shaft. It was a close fit. But the Boy Wonder was able to work his way cautiously along the shaft to emerge into a narrow area that served as a kind of attic beneath the factory roof. He searched the dusty floor until he found a trapdoor.
Bending down, he listened at the trapdoor for a full minute. No sound came from below.
Using all his strength, Robin pried up the lid of the trapdoor. There was a little squeaking sound.
With the trapdoor open, Robin was able to look down into the room below.
What Robin saw in that room caused his breath to tighten in his throat.
In a chair against the wall, tightly bound and gagged, was Batman!
Robin could barely restrain himself from leaping down into the room. But a sense of caution deterred him. He made a careful survey of the room below him.
Then he saw the Joker.
There was no mistaking the Joker—even from behind. The familiar green shock of hair flowed back and down his neck, and the coattails of his maroon-colored frock coat spread out over the seat. He sat at a desk confronting the bound figure of Batman.
Suddenly Batman’s eyes turned upward to see Robin.
In that last moment, as Robin sprang for the Joker, it occurred to him that Batman’s eyes seemed to hold an agonized glance—of warning. But Robin was already in mid-flight.
He crashed into the seated figure of the Joker.
In that split second, the Boy Wonder’s superquick reflexes flashed their danger signal.
This was not the Joker at all. It was a dummy!
In the next split second, Robin realized that the dummy had set off an ingenious and diabolical trap.
The floor beneath the desk swung down. The desk and the dummy Joker remained bolted in position on the floor.
But Robin plunged through, into the blackness! Then the floor swung back into position.
From a far door to the room the real Joker emerged. He was in a triumphant mood.
“My dummy trap caught Robin! And you, Batman, were forced to watch it happen. Oh, what exquisite torture it must have been!”
Only the tense straining of Batman’s muscles against his bonds proved that he heard the Joker’s taunt.
The Joker laughed. “Hyaa-ha-ha! Perhaps you think your little friend will survive my trap, Batman. Well, he can’t. I was saving the cream of the jest to tell you later. Robin is already dead. Thoroughly and quite untraceably murdered!”
The chair in which Batman sat creaked with his terrible effort to move. But the chair legs were bolted firmly to the floor.
The Joker’s laughter grew shriller.
“Just five feet below this floor is a pool of carbolic acid. The moment Robin went through the floor he plunged into the pool. Hyaa-ha-ha-ha! Your young comrade-in-arms is nothing but a memory. Not a hank of his hair remains. He-he-he-he-he! He’s completely dissolved into his original atoms!”
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