Batgirl’s Answer Breaks the Tension

Batgirl stared fearfully at the intake pipes, which had already begun to suck boiling ink toward the clear, overhead nozzles that would soon fill and release their contents over her. If she were to escape, she would need to do so almost immediately.

She bent her elbow and gasped as pain stabbed her arm. Because Riddler’s restraints mercilessly punished even the slightest movement, Batgirl knew she would never have reached the miraculous wonders normally clasped around her waist. The avaricious arch-criminal had taken no chances, however, having deprived the delectable daredevil of her gadget-laden girdle. The beastly bindings rendered her backup arsenal, carried in her boots and gloves, equally useless. Moving to retrieve any implement at all would be painful enough to be utterly impossible.

She had left Commissioner Gordon, Chief O’Hara, and the tenacious Vicki Vale to pursue the Riddler without a means of guessing at what success she might have. She had been by herself when she found the villain’s headquarters and had neither tried to seek backup nor reported her findings. So, Batgirl had no hope of rescue. She was utterly alone!

Had she reported her suspicions about this publisher or had the Riddler’s men been at all careless in binding her, there might have been a chance. Glumly, Batgirl banished these thoughts, knowing nothing would be gained from negativity or playing “what if” games.

As Batgirl watched the level of ink in the heated vat diminish, she knew her remaining time on Earth was growing short. She could also see blue ink accumulating in the nozzles above her.

“Villains always overlook something!” she cried fiercely.

Despite her emotion, she could not help remaining somehow unconvinced. Batgirl could never recall being quite so helpless. She could not move and had examined all of the equipment the Riddler was employing against her without finding a flaw she could exploit. As long as she was held motionless, damaging this equipment would remain impossible. Batgirl gritted her teeth. The trap was executing its purpose flawlessly, and soon it would execute her—much too soon!

“Come on, girl!” she encouraged herself. “Start over. Review it again. There has got to be something Riddler overlooked!”

Batgirl centered herself and took in some air. As she exhaled, she realized she had one very slim chance. It might be possible to dislocate her thumbs by curling them into her palms and then pulling hard, so her hands would slip through the sinister straps looped around her wrists. She felt sweat on her forearms and decided the uncomfortable feeling was a positive sign. The danger, of course, would be that bones in her hand could break, perhaps preventing her from manipulating the four buckles holding the restraints that would remain in place even if her hands were free. She might try freeing only one hand, but feared time would not permit her to escape if she went that route.

A glance at the filling nozzles told her they would begin spewing liquid death any second!

“Okay,” Batgirl muttered, drawing her thumbs tightly to her palms. She hardened the muscles of her arms and stretched as far as she could, straightening. Finally, she took a deep breath and pulled her arms downward using every ounce of her strength.

The merciless pain that wracked her body made her convulse involuntarily and rent a primal scream from her, obscuring an audible “pop.” Her chest heaved and she realized her hands had come free. She had succeeded. The high price she had paid in pain had been rewarded.

Batgirl grabbed her right thumb with the fingers of her left hand and wrenched it back into place. The pain was significant, but less than experienced during the dislocation. After repeating the procedure on her left thumb with her right hand, she closed her eyes and paid attention to her breathing. Slowly, it became more calm and regular. She would need to relax before she released her throat from its restraint. Batgirl opened her eyes and glanced at the ink vat while she tried to center herself.

The ink vat was empty!

Her hands flew to her throat and tore at the buckle as she stared at the now-blue nozzles above her with wide eyes and lungs that had once again emptied involuntarily. She could see the nozzles had filled completely and knew the pressure inside had poised the bubbling ink to burst and rain upon her!

She pondered her horrific predicament as a drop of ink forming on the lip of the nozzle above her heralded the searing shower to follow shortly.

The first hot, blue stream hit the inkpad where Batgirl’s hands had been seconds earlier. The second Batgirl heard the liquid hit the ink pad, she smelled strangely scented smoke rising toward the ceiling, and she spotted it after blinking several times. Batgirl’s fingers and thumbs fumbled at the buckle at her throat without being able to open it.

Her mind, though, had worked more swiftly than she was consciously aware. Instinct had made her rise, and she had sat up before realizing the restraint at her neck should have prevented any movement. ‘How had sitting up been possible?’ she wondered.

Batgirl reviewed her actions and the sensations she had experienced in the past few seconds. Then, she realized the answer, thinking, ‘The strange scent of the smoke made me realize the hot ink had melted the inkpad beneath me!’

She was holding a pair of knives drawn from their places in her boots when her mind snapped back to the present. These sawed rapidly through her leg and ankle restraints until her lower body was free and only the strap around her waist remained.

“Time to go!” Batgirl said. She scooted backward slightly and braced herself with her hands as she stood and flung herself to the floor. Her legs easily slid from beneath the single strap.

Above her, the remaining nozzles burst, harmlessly saturating and ultimately destroying the melting inkpad.

“Free at last, “ Batgirl said, breathing heavily and feeling the shot of adrenaline that had spurred her to safety diminish. She collapsed to the floor and was slowly enveloped by the lingering pain of her ordeal.

Batgirl welcomed it because it told her she was alive.

Slowly, the pain subsided and Batgirl’s breathing became more regular. Once she was sure she was ready, she stood and crossed the room to shut off the burner beneath the empty vat, leaving the leather strap from her throat behind. Next, she put away her fallen knives and moved to the locked door. A tool tucked into her glove made short work of the lock and her search of the premises began. Riddler and his companions had all gone and the only things Batgirl found were her cape and her utility belt.

Batgirl welcomed the cool of the night as she drove home, treated herself to a relaxing bubble bath, and crawled gratefully into bed.

The next morning, Riddler slid from between Anna Gram and Betsy Boldface, put on a green robe, and began pacing his sumptuous, subterranean retreat. After awhile, he layed out his comfortable, question mark adorned outfit, and moved to the shower glancing one last time at the two women sleeping soundly beneath the single sheet he had drawn over all of them as they had surrendered to exhaustion hours ago.

Anna Gram drew a brush through her hair as she watched Riddler dress in the mirror after he emerged from the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning.

“Oh, nothing,” Riddler replied. “I’m sorry, Anna. Everything is fine.”

She stood and turned to face him as he began to resume his pacing. “You’re tense. Sit down and I‘ll help you relax.”

“I feel fine, Anna. Really,” Riddler insisted. He stopped pacing and stood still, regarding the redhead.

“I should hope so,” she replied, grinning impishly as her black robe clung invitingly to her every curve and whispered against her flesh as she moved expectantly toward him.

Riddler’s expression stopped her in her tracks. “It’s just that--"

“What?” Anna Gram softly asked.

“It’s Batgirl,” Riddler admitted. “She’s dead.”

“Wasn’t that the idea, when we set out to kill her?” the girl demanded.

“Of course it was,” Riddler replied. “So many old masters of the criminal craft, like Penguin, Joker, and the late Catwoman, have tried to rid Gotham City of Batgirl. Imagine the looks on their faces when they learn we’ve succeeded where they failed. The triumph is . . . a little overwhelming.”

“Don’t let me burst your bubble, boss,” Anna Gram said a bit worriedly, "but won’t Batman and Robin come after us like a couple of crazed bloodhounds?”

“They may indeed focus on our capture to the exclusion of all else. When they do, we’ll take advantage of their tunnel vision and send them to join Batgirl beyond the pale.”

“Good riddance to them, too,” Anna Gram said.

“I’ll need to give out some new riddles to confound the Caped Crusader, since I gave Batgirl the benefit of my last cunning clue. Even if she solved it before the end, the riddle won’t do anyone any good.” Riddler sank resignedly into a comfortable chair.

Anna Gram picked up a green telephone and carried it to his side. “When Commissioner Gordon comes in for work, you’ll just have to have him convey a couple of cunning clues to Batman. Do you have riddles ready?”

“I do and it seems we have time to kill before luring Batman and Robin to their doom.”

“Good,” Anna Gram said, seating herself in her employer’s lap. “ I think you should relax after your active evening. Leave everything to me.” As the redhead spoke, she leaned against Riddler’s body and turned her head to kiss him.

“Have I told you how great you look in that green, spandex teddy?” Riddler asked after the kiss broke. “You know the one I mean. It has question marks all over it.”

“Hush!” Anna Gram huskily commanded. Because the criminal couple’s mouths were mere millimeters apart as Riddler spoke, compelling her employer’s silence was simplicity itself.

When the Commissioner arrived at Police Headquarters, he found his secretary, Bonnie, on the phone. “He’s just arrived. I’ll see if he’s willing to speak to you.” She put the caller on hold. “Sir, the Riddler is on the line.”

“Have we heard from Batgirl at all?”

“Not yet.”

“I’d better speak to him.” The Commissioner sat down at his desk and took a deep breath before picking up the phone. “What do you want, Riddler?” the public official demanded.

“Good morning, Commissioner. I wanted you to know I plan to have a portion of Batgirl’s mortal remains delivered to you sometime tomorrow."

“You’re telling me . . . Batgirl . . . is dead?”

“She’s been transformed into a special ink with which I’ll print a series of commemorative posters. Yours will, of course, be on the house.”

“Once I can prove you arranged her demise, I’ll hunt you to the ends of the Earth. That is a solumn promise!”

“Well, while you’re at it, ponder this riddle: I am pronounced as one letter, but written with three, only two different letters are used to make me. I'm double. I'm single. I'm black, blue, and gray. Also, I'm read from both ends the same way.”

“Listen to me, you--"

“Since you’re having trouble with that one, I’ll give you another. Which weighs more, a pound of wet sand or a pound of dry sand? If you and your caped colleagues haven’t figured it out by tonight, it will be too late. I’ll leave you to it.” Riddler cradled the phone and leaned back over Anna Gram, who regarded him with sparking eyes. “There,” Riddler said, smiling. “All finished. Now, where were we?” Anna Gram reached up and reminded him without a word.

The Commissioner was staring into space when Chief O’Hara arrived. “Commissioner, what’s wrong?”

“Riddler called.”

“Crooks call this office all the time. I know it upsets you, but I never expected--"

“He told me Batgirl--"

The Commissioner’s intercom buzzed. Chief O’Hara leaned over and tapped the button. “Batgirl is here to see you, sir,” Bonnie said.

“Batgirl?” the Commissioner incredulously repeated.

“Sure, send her in,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Batgirl!” The Commissioner joyfully cried as the Purple-clad Paragon appeared. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you! Riddler called and told me you were dead!”

“Dead?” Chief O’Hara queried.

“He did try, but I’m afraid he’s going to be disappointed,” Batgirl declared, settling into a comfortable chair and crossing her legs. Then, she told her story.

“So, that punctuated pest was waiting for you,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Yes,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Once again, Batgirl has foiled a fiendish death plot.”

Batgirl grinned. “I’m lucky to have a perfect record in escaping deathtraps. Of course, I’m glad to have the luck working for me. Survival has taken a lot more than luck, but I don’t want to diminish its role.”

“I don’t mean to make light of the danger in which you place yourself, Batgirl,” the Commissioner said, softly tapping his wooden desktop with his knuckles as he grinned.

“I know,” Batgirl reassured him. “Thank you. Now, what have you learned and has the Riddler told us about his plans?”

“We tore that parade float apart and found nothing we could use,” Chief O’Hara said. “We also got a statement from Vicki Vale.”

“We’ve also given the clue Riddler spouted while you were trapped on his float some thought,” Commissioner Gordon added, quoting. “When you need it, you throw it away, when you don't need it, you take it in. What is it?”

“Batgirl solved that one already,” Chief O’Hara pointed out. “The answer was an anchor.”

“At first,” Batgirl explained, “I thought he was simply taunting me because I was anchored in his malevolent magnetic field, but it was an anchor that drew me into his trap at the offices of Modern Mystery Magazine.”

“A double clue,” Chief O’Hara marveled. “He is a clever devil. I’ll have those offices staked out and if Riddler or any of his people show their faces, we’ll nab them.”

“Good thinking, Chief,” Commissioner Gordon praised. “Now, maybe we should get to work on his more recent clues.”

“Right, Commissoner. Riddler gave me a riddle to work on before he left me to die,” Batgirl recalled. “Let me see: What type of glass is never emptied nor used to quench a thirst?”

“A looking glass?” the Commissioner offered.

“That’s it!” Chief O’Hara declared, slapping his right fist into his left palm. “A mirror! Who can forget that mirrored maze in which he trapped you and the Dynamic Duo?”

“Maybe,” Batgirl said dubiously. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. Did Riddler say anything else when he called you about my death?”

Commissioner Gordon slammed his hand into his forehead. “I must be going batty! I nearly forgot about the two riddles Riddler gave me." James Gordon then looked sheepishly at Batgirl. "Oh, Batgirl, please don’t be offended by my choice of words. It’s just an expression.”

“Please don’t worry about it, Commissioner. What were the riddles?”

“Well,” Commissioner Gordon said, “the first went ‘I am pronounced as one letter, but written with three, only two different letters are used to make me. I'm double. I'm single. I'm black, blue, and gray. Also, I'm read from both ends the same way.’”

Chief O’Hara thought for a moment, scratching his head. Then he shrugged helplessly and spread his hands. “Well, I’m stumped,” he complained.

“Now, listen to the second,” the Commissioner encouraged. “Which weighs more, a pound of wet sand or a pound of dry sand?”

“Wet sand would weigh more, but what does it mean?” Chief O’Hara asked with a sigh.

“Wait a minute,” Batgirl said, as she began pacing the room, “a pound of wet sand and a pound of dry sand -- the water in the wet sand would contribute a considerable portion of the weight, but we’re told we have only a pound of it. So, we also have a pound of dry sand and the question we’re asked is, which weighs more?”

Suddenly, she stopped, snapped her fingers and regretted doing so immediately. Her thumb was still sensitive. She grimaced momentarily, then continued, “A single pound weighs only one pound. We could be talking about cement or feathers, but a pound would always weigh a pound!”

“So,” Chief O’Hara said, staring incredulously, “the answer is they weigh the same!”

“Of course,” Commissioner Gordon said. “So simple when you know the answer . . . but what does it mean?”

“The answer to that question, Commissioner, lies in the other riddle.”

“Right,” Commissioner Gordon said, quoting, “'I am pronounced as one letter, but written with three, only two different letters are used to make me. I'm double. I'm single. I'm black, blue, and gray. Also, I'm read from both ends the same way.'”

With a rare flash of insight, Chief O’Hara observed, “It’s a word.”

“Good,” Batgirl said. “It’s more than just a word, though. It’s a three letter word that sounds like a letter itself.”

“Two of the three letters in the word are the same,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“It could be a bee,” Chief O’Hara offered, brightening.

“You may be on the right track,” Batgirl said kindly, “but bees are never blue or gray and our letter can be black, blue, gray, single, or double.”

“How can one letter be double and multi-colored?” Commissioner Gordon demanded, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I am baffled.”

“We’ve just gone a long way toward solving this one,” Chief O’Hara encouraged. “At least I think we have. Uh, haven’t we, Batgirl?”

“That’s it!” Batgirl said.

“What?” the men asked simultaneously.

“The Commissioner just said he was baffled and the Chief just said he thought we were making progress,” Batgirl explained, addressing one man as she spoke of the other. “Both of you used the same word!”

“We did?” they asked. Then, each stared at the other as realization dawned. In unison they excitedly declared, “No, I did!”

“Begorra! The answer is ‘eye’,” Chief O’Hara said.

“’Eye’ is a homonym for the letter ‘I’,” Commissioner Gordon said. “The word and the letter sound exactly the same when pronounced!” He paused, and then said disheartened, “But I still don’t know what it all means.”

Batgirl paced the room and returned. “We still have the riddle I was given,” she said. “What type of glass is never emptied nor used to quench a thirst?”

“Well, if it’s not a looking glass, maybe it’s a type of glass,” Chief O’Hara said. “There are rocks glasses, champagne glasses, fluted glasses, snifters–”

“All of those types of glasses are used for drinking, Chief O’Hara. We need a glass that is never used to quench a thirst,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“Right,” the Chief agreed, stroking his chin, “that brings us back to a looking glass or . . . what about eyeglasses?! That would fit with one of the other clues.”

“I think that answer is closer to the mark, but the Riddler is usually quite literal. I think the glass we must find is never emptied.”

“Right, Batgirl, and you can’t put anything in a mirror or eyeglasses,” Commissioner Gordon said, “But what about a telescope? Those are sometimes called spyglasses.”

“What’s inside a spyglass?’ Batgirl asked.

“Well,” Chief O’Hara said, “telescopes often have mirrors, but those little ones ships captains use don’t hold anything.”

“How long have we been working on these riddles?” Commissioner Gordon asked. “My head is starting to hurt.”

“Let’s take a five minute break,” Batgirl suggested, stretching. “We have been at it awhile.”

“That’s it, Batgirl!” Commissioner Gordon shouted, startling both Batgirl and the Chief.

“What?” the heroine asked, relaxing and letting her arms fall back to her sides.

“We’re looking for a glass that tells time!”

Batgirl and Chief O’Hara stared at one another.

“An hourglass! It’s never emptied, nor used for drinking!” Batgirl excitedly said. “Great job, Commissioner!” She was justifiably proud of her father.

“Begorra!” Chief O’Hara silently considered the role the sight of Batgirl stretching may have had in his superior’s insight, but was wise enough to keep this speculation to himself.

“All the years of working on these crazy clues must finally be paying off,” James Gordon said modestly.

“Now, let’s put these clues together,” Batgirl suggested. “We have an hourglass, an eye, and the same.”

“There is no eye that is the same as an hourglass,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“What about the riddle about the anchor?” Chief O’Hara offered.

“I’ve got it!” Batgirl declared.

“We solved the riddle about the eye by using homonyms and the other riddle tells us the ultimate answer is the same as an eye.”

“That makes sense,” Commissioner Gordon said, “but where does it get us?”

“Chief O’Hara mentioning anchors reminded me of another homonym for eye!”

“Aye!” Chief O’Hara said, grinning.

“Riddler’s crime will have a nautical theme then. We have anchors and the nautical affirmative term,” Commissioner Gordon said. “How in the world, though, would an hourglass fit in?”

“Aboard a ship, hourglasses were used to indicate when to ring the bells marking the time,“ Batgirl explained. “The hourglass would be turned and the bell would be rung the appropriate number of times. Now, didn’t I read the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities has opened an exhibit of nautical gear used by Prince Henry the Navigator in the fourteenth century?”

“Sure an’ you did, Batgirl. It just so happens that the display includes a couple of hourglasses . . . filled with gold dust instead of sand!”

“We’ve figured out his target,” Commissioner Gordon declared confidently, “and he practically told me he’d strike tonight.”

“I’ll be there when he hits the museum,” Batgirl declared, “and I’ll stop him!”

That night, a sinister sextet moved through the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities. “I’m a little surprised the exterior vent shafts were not rigged with alarms,” Betsy Boldface said. “Getting in here was a snap.”

“That’s because we used the exhaust vent. No poison gas or anything like it could penetrate the facility via that route,” the Riddler explained.

“How do you know stuff like that, boss?” Anna Gram asked.

“In my colorful criminal past, I ran both the Mole Hill Mob and the River Rat Gang. With such resources at my disposal, gathering intelligence on the security systems of potential future targets was simplicity itself. There will be challenges to overcome, though, once we arrive at the displays. Now, since everyone knows what to do, let’s hurry.” They all moved forward a few steps before Riddler put up a hand to halt them. “Footsteps,” he softly said.

They all listened and clearly heard the footsteps that had alerted their leader. “See to the guard, boys,” Riddler ordered quietly. Royko, Siskel, and Turkel moved off to obey. “Now, ladies, I trust you can handle your part of the operation?”

“No problem,” Anna Gram said.

“Leave it to us,” Betsy Boldface agreed.

“Excellent.” Riddler said, convulsing with giggles he could not keep to himself. “Go, go.” He waved his hand in the appropriate direction as he tried to stifle himself. His women went. When he was master of his movements again, Riddler moved in the direction his men had gone and stood stock-still when their handiwork came into sight. He spread his legs wide and bent over one of the bound figures on the floor, resting his hands on his knees. “Well, what do we have here? It’s an unexpected, yet beautiful, bonus.”

Batgirl’s first hint of Riddler’s presence was a blip in the network of invisible electric eye beams on a monitor. The anomaly was so subtle, she might have missed it had she not been looking for it. “He’s here,” she said.

“Do you want me to send a squad to apprehend him?” the head of security asked.

“No. Leave him to me. Just see that no one leaves the building.”

“My job is to see that no unauthorized person enters this building. Now, this thief and his gang are inside. I want to know how that is possible!”

“Once I catch him, you’ll have plenty of time to ask all of your questions.”

The answer seemed to mollify the red-haired man. “Good luck, Batgirl. I’ve seen to it that you won’t be hampered by security on the most direct route to the display with Prince Henry’s nautical equipment.”

“Thank you.” Batgirl hurried to the exhibit.

The Dominoed Daredoll arrived in time to see two of Riddler’s men lift the glass case from around the small, gold dust-filled hourglasses. The third man stood poised to set a pair of pouches on the surface where the hourglasses rested. The Riddler stood ready to snatch his prize.

“Now!” Riddler said, snatching the hourglasses as his minion set the pouches in their place. The two stepped back as the men holding the glass cover returned it to its place. This time Riddler could not contain his maniacal mirth. “We’ve done it! We’ve done it.” He bent over with giggles and shook for a moment before letting out a delighted breath. “I love it.”

“I love that I’ve caught you red-handed, Riddler!” Batgirl said, striding forward and resting her hands on her well-rounded hips. “I’m placing all of you under arrest. You may as well surrender.”

“It’s impossible!” the Riddler incredulously said. “You’re dead!”

“I’ll show all of you just how alive I am,” the heroine ominously said.

‘Of course,’ Riddler thought, ‘Batgirl’s survival explains the police officers we saw watching the magazine offices this afternoon.’

Batgirl stepped toward the criminals.

“Just a moment, Batgirl,” Riddler said, holding up a restraining hand. Something in his voice stopped the Curved Crusader. “Before you pound my men into pulp, I should show you the full extent of my villainy tonight. Girls!” the arch criminal called, “bring in our unwitting accomplice.” The Riddler grinned and his voice held a hint of mirth as Betsy Boldface and Anna Gram entered, carrying the bound Vicki Vale between them.

Batgirl stared, momentarily speechless. “Vicki, what are you doing here? How did you know—“

“I spent the afternoon with a cop friend of mine and he told me about the Riddler investigaton off the record. I had dinner with a friend on the museaum staff and arranged to be on hand to cover the robbery firsthand,” Vicki explained.

“Let her go, Riddler!”

“The ravishing and resourceful Ms. Vale is my only assurance of your good behavior, Batgirl. I’m sure you’d agree throwing away my advantage would be foolish.” He spread his legs wide and pointed at his prisoner while regarding Batgirl and speaking softly. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to surrender before the girls start hurting her.”

“I’m not surprised you’d stoop to hiding behind a woman!” Batgirl declared.

“With an attitude like that, there’s no doubt you’re the original Batgirl all right,” Riddler said, shrugging. “While I’m delighted not to disappoint you, I have no idea how you could possibly have survived my trap.”

“He tried to kill you, Batgirl?” Vicki Vale asked.

“When I found him after he held up the parade,” Batgirl answered. “I think I’ll keep the method of my survival, with all due respect to the Press, secret, thank you.”

“Maintain your mystery if you wish, my dear," the Riddler said. "It won’t matter. You now have fifteen seconds to surrender, before my hostage suffers.”

“Never mind about me, Batgirl,” Vicki Vale cried. “Just kick Riddler’s—“

“I’m sorry, Ms. Vale,” Batgirl regretfully said. “Riddler isn’t really giving me a choice.”

“I thought you’d see things my way,” Riddler said. “I’d like a couple pairs of Batcuffs and their keys, please.” Batgirl surrendered them. “Boys, shackle our new captive while the girls prepare our other bewildering restraint for Batgirl.”

Riddler cackled gleefully as the thugs snapped the Batcuffs on Batgirl. Meanwhile, Betsy Boldface and Anna Gram retrieved a golden ring with the circumference of a large pan. They then moved their hands around it. After a few circuits, the golden ring became two smaller rings. This process was repeated three more times and the sixteen rings were arranged so that they surrounded Batgirl. Riddler’s women kept working until Batgirl found herself seated inside a sphere formed from the golden rings.

“I’ll be out of here and after you in no time, Riddler,” Batgirl warned.

“I beg to differ, Batgirl. I know your curiosity won’t let you ignore the mystery of the illusion that created your prison, and we’ll be gone with everything for which we came long before you’ve extricated yourself from that cell. Oh, keep after me and I won’t be so gentle with you in the future.”

“You’ve already tried to kill me. It didn’t work.”

“Well, when you force us to try again, you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you. My associates and I have clearly overstayed our welcome. Before we leave, here’s a little riddle to work on: Why could a room full of married couples be said to be empty? If that one stumps you, here’s another: In a room you have a candle, an oil lamp, and wood in a fireplace, but only one match. What do you light first? Goodbye, ladies. Ms. Vale, you were truly magnificent.” The Riddler bowed and followed his malevolent minions from the premesis. Soon, the echoes of the villain’s maniacal giggling died away.

“Magnificent! The Riddler said I was magnificent!” Vicki Vale raged, struggling fiercely but vainly in her bonds. “There is absolutely no reason—“ The good-looking gossip reporter became suddenly mute and still as Batgirl’s shackles fell noisily from the heroine's wrists. Once she had recovered her wits, she asked. “How did you do that?”

“I was holding a lock pick when those goons shackled me. I only had to wait for them to go to free myself. I’ll free you as soon as I get out of this cunningly constructed cage.”

“Riddler said that cage was created with an illusion. Is it real?”

Batgirl wrapped a hand around one of the rings and shook the cage. “It’s real enough, but I want Riddler more than the solution to the mystery.” As she spoke, Batgirl took a cutting torch from her utility belt and attacked the walls of her prison. Moments later, she stepped from the cage, put away her torch, and released Vicki Vale.

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” Batgirl replied. She was busy dialing her cell phone. “Excuse me for just a minute. This is Batgirl. Where did the Riddler go?” She listened for a moment and glanced at Vicki Vale again. “Come on.”

“Now you’re inviting me to help with your investigation?”

I’m not in such a hurry this time and you saw more of Riddler than me. Besides, we both heard Riddler’s riddles. The more help I have solving them, the better.”

“I may owe you an apology, Batgirl. I thought you had left me with the police yesterday just to keep me away from Riddler.”

“I won’t lie to you, Ms. Vale. Riddler is a dangerous criminal and there was a very real possibility keeping an eye on you while I went after him could have gotten both of us killed.”

“Call me Vicki. Riddler did indicate he tried to kill you.”

“He did,” Batgirl acknowledged, telling her story as she and Vicki Vale pursued the criminals to the lowest level of the building. The two women halted at the blind end of a dimly lit corridor.

“Where did they go?” Vicki Vale demanded, looking around with her hands on her hips.

After a moment’s thought, Batgirl reached up to the vent, wrenching at the cover. It came free in her hands. “I’ll bet this leads outside, Vicki. If I’m right, the other end will be on the north side of the building. Why don’t I go through the vent and meet you there?”

“You’re not trying to ditch me?” her companion asked, her voice betraying a hint of suspicion.

“No, Vicki,” Batgirl said gently. “I really would like your help with Riddler’s riddles.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the other end of this shaft, but . . . you think he got away, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid so. See you soon,” Batgirl said, slipping into the vent.

Ten minutes later, out in the moonlight, Batgirl emerged from the shaft and found Vicki Vale leaning against the side of the building beside a similarly arranged grill. “Now where?” she asked.

Batgirl pointed her Batlight at a manhole and crouched beside it. “Look at these fresh scratches. They went down there.”

“Do we go after them?”

“No. Riddler knows the labyrinthine Gotham City sewer system like the back of his hand, through years of association with the likes of the Mole Hill Mob and the River Rat Gang. You and I would be hopelessly lost down there in less than ten minutes.”

“Then the chase is over.”

“It would be, if it weren't for the riddles . . .”

“Sure an’ the tricky fiend got away!” Chief O’Hara said. “Did he give you any idea of his next crime?”

“Two riddles,” Batgirl grimly said. “Why could a room full of married couples be said to be empty?”

“I’ll have to think about that one,” Commissioner Gordon said. “What was the second?”

“In a room you have a candle, an oil lamp, and wood in a fireplace, but only one match. What do you light first?” Vicki Vale said, recalling the riddle from memory.

“With all due respect, Ms. Vale,” the Commissioner said, “how is it you're helping us with this investigation?”

“She was a victim of Riddler at the museum tonight and heard the riddles at the same time I did,” Batgirl explained. “I thought she might be able to help.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Vicki Vale said. “You gentlemen should realize that I’ll go if you ask me to, but that I’ll find out what went on at this meeting and act accordingly on my own.”

“We don’t respond well to threats,” Chief O’Hara cautioned.

“I’m not threatening you, Chief. I’m simply pointing out I have other sources in the police department and, one way or another, I’m going to cover this story.”

“Since Batgirl invited you in,” the Commissioner said, smiling, “I’m sure your help will be invaluable.” Batgirl nodded in response to a questioning glance.

“Well, let’s tackle the second riddle,” Chief O’Hara suggested. “The candle or the lamp would give you light and the firewood would give you warmth.”

“Which is more important, light or warmth?” Commissioner Gordon asked, throwing up his hands. “If light is more important, do we choose the candle or the lamp?”

“Wait a minute,” Batgirl said. “We have one match with which to light these items, thus necessitating the choice.”

“Right,” the men agreed.

“How would the match be employed?”

“Well,” Vicki Vale said, “first, you light the match and then–”

“Begorra! The answer is the match!”

“Of course,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“The word ‘match’ brings us back to our first riddle,” Batgirl observed. “Why could a room full of married couples be said to be empty?”

“I’m still stumped,” Chief O’Hara said. “This is another real brain buster.”

“Well, the members of a married couple might be considered a perfect match,” the Commissioner offered.

“Togetherness and emptiness,” Batgirl muttered, pacing the room. “What was it you just said, Commissioner?”

“I said the members of a married couple might be considered a perfect match,” the public official repeated.

“The marriage partnership or union is made up of individual members,” Batgirl mused. “I think you may be on to something, Commissioner.”

“I am?”

“Riddler’s room is full of married people. What do we call an unmarried person?”

“Miss?” Chief O’Hara guessed.

“Good, Chief,” Batgirl kindly praised. “You’re on the right track. How would we describe such a person?”

“I’ve got it!” Vicki Vale enthused. "We call unmarried people single.”

“Begorra!”

“Right,” Batgirl said. “So a room full of married people does not contain any single people or not a single person!”

“There would not be a single person there,” Commissioner Gordon said, stroking his chin. “It makes sense in terms of the riddle. Now, the question is, what does it all mean?”

“Matches and not single are the answers to the latest riddles,” Batgirl said. “Previously, we had anchors; eyes; hourglasses; and sameness, which pointed us to the Prince Henry display at the museum.”

“The riddle about the parade led us to the parade,” Vicki Vale recalled.

“The first riddle was about an envelope,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“Sure. Now, let’s put it all together.”

Batgirl paced the length of the room and back before her eye fell on the newspaper. “That might be it,” she said.

“What?” the men asked.

“Tomorrow night there will be a royal reception aboard a yacht from the Kingdom of Morocco at which ceremonial awards will be exchanged. The yacht arrived this afternoon with its escort following a ceremonial parade.”

“Right you are, Batgirl.” Vicki Vale said. “Many of Gotham City’s leading citizens and some members of the United World organization will attend.”

“The party will have lots of rich, fat birds for the Riddler to pluck,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Now, how do the latest riddles fit?” the Commissioner asked.

“The squadron accompanying the yacht will keep it from being alone and the purpose of tomorrow’s ceremonies is to demonstrate our joint focus against world terrorism,” Batgirl explained. “In addition, during Prince Henry’s lifetime, European voyages of discovery had only reached as far as the shores of Morocco!”

“Sure an’ it fits!” Chief O’Hara declared excitedly. “I’ll detail an extra squad of plainclothes officers.”

“Good thinking, Chief,” the Commissioner congratulated. “You’ve done it again, Batgirl. I’d be remiss if I failed to recognize your contribution, Ms.Vale.”

“Thank you all. I just hope we’re right,” Vicki Vale said, favoring the trio of law enfocers with her most winning smile. “I’ll leave you boys and Batgirl to go after Riddler. I have a story to write and it’s going to be a busy day.”

“She isn’t finished covering this story,” the Commissioner said.

“It won’t be over until we’ve caught that punctuated devil,” Chief O”Hara agreed.

“You’re right,” Batgirl said. “She’ll be at that party and in danger. I can best protect her, and everyone else, by stopping the Riddler.” She whirled toward the double doors to her father’s office and departed with her cape fluttering behind her.

“If Batgirl can stop Riddler in time, Ms. Vale will be in no danger at all,” Chief O’Hara predicted.

“Ms. Vale and the rest of Gotham City as well, Chief O'Hara,” the Commissioner agreed. “Otherwise, there is no telling what could happen.”

The next day began with Barbara Gordon still harboring concern for Vicki Vale’s safety as well as a nagging doubt about the solution to the Riddler’s clues. She decided to pay the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities a return visit during her lunch hour– although this time in her civilian guise. By the time she had finished at work, she was certain her misgivings had been justified. The lovely librarian hurried home to undergo her tantalizing transformation and zoom into the night on her Batgirlcycle at the top legal speed.

Meanwhile, far away, the Riddler and his nasty and naughty news hounds emerged from their truck clad in question mark adorned wetsuits and air tanks mounted on their backs. They slid into their flippers and put their diving masks in place. “All right,” Riddler asked, “is everyone ready?”

“I want to get the details straight before I go diving into the dark Atlantic,” Betsy Boldface said. “Vikings were basically pirates who operated actively in the northern seas until the fourteenth century, right?”

“Correct. History tells us about Erik the Red, who discovered Iceland, Greenland, and a part of North America he called Vineland, but there were many more and some of the caves along the Gotham City shoreline were used as a base.”

“That means they cached hordes of treasure here?” Anna Gram asked in wonder. Before her boss could answer her first question, though, she skeptically posed another, “But, would there have been any trade in these waters back then?”

“No, but that is what made it the ideal coast from which to launch pirate raids. The Europeans had no idea this continent existed. All they knew was a fleet of ships that looked like sea monsters would come at them from the direction of the edge of the world. Vikings would swarm over their ships, slaughtering their opposition and depart with their bloody prizes into the uncharted waters to the west, where dragons dwelt.”

“So, no one ever chased them?” Betsy Boldface asked.

”Much of the history of these raids went unrecorded,” Riddler explained. “Of course, few of the Vikings’ victims survived.”

“It makes sense!” Anna agreed excitedly. “Let’s imagine you did survive. Why write home about ignominious, bloody defeats when everyone was afraid to sail beyond the sight of land anyway? What kind of reception could you expect when you got home?” She looked at her leader with renewed admiration. “You’re a genius, Riddler, for figuring all this out! How did you do it?”

The villain leaned against her and giggled hysterically. “I found an ancient riddle while recovering from a series of sharp blows to the head I suffered after stealing a fleet of submarines with the help of the Siren. I solved that riddle while we waited for our payoff and that ungrateful wench ran away with my doctor.”

“Forget her,” Betsy advised.

“Anyway, I put the experience I gained solving the riddle of the lost treasure of the Incas to use and worked out the Viking riddle,” the Prince of Puzzlers continued. “That answer, together with the maps you stole from the museum of Antiquities, and my calculation of external variables like continental drift and global warming, have led me to believe the Viking base is in the caves along this coast. Unfortunately, all of the cave entrances hereabouts are under water. We’ll start looking here because no spelunker has chanced to find the treasure.” Riddler glanced at the blonde girl, favoring her with a smile and a slight nod. ‘You’ve helped me move far beyond the Siren, my dear,’ he thought. He winked and resumed his lecture aloud.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, boss,” Royko admitted.

“Just one thing?” the thug’s employer teased. “All right, what is it?”

“If we were after this Viking treasure all the time, why did we bother with those other crimes?”

“To confound and confuse our conceited enemies! That’s why I got into this super-criminal game in the first place, to bring the self-righteous and sanctimonious down a few pegs. After all, do I look like a common archeologist or relic hunter to you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, boss,” Siskel advised, “but Sydney Fox, the world famous relic hunter, looks a lot better than you.” Anna and Betsy glared at Siskel and the Riddler helplessly stared.

“On the other hand,” Turkel thoughtfully said, “honest treasure hounds would feel obligated to donate whatever they find to museums for the good of humanity or something.”

“Precisely, Turkel,” the Riddler said. “Our goals are more capitalistic. Let’s find those caves and that treasure!” Giggling once again, the Riddler led his sinister sextet below the waves.

Two hours later, the criminals returned to their vehicle. The Riddler was jubilant. “As you all know, I am a man of few words, but of many riddles. So, riddle me this, my unholy crew: What has been around for millions of years, but is never more than a month old?”

The men stared stupidly at their leader. Anna Gram and Betsy Boldface frowned, deep in thought.

“Quickly, quickly!” the Riddler impatiently said. “We don’t have all night.”

“Wait a minute,” Anna Gram said. “You just gave us a hint, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Betsy Boldface demanded.

“How old is the solar system?” Anna asked.

“Well,” Betsy said uncertainly. “It’s old.”

“Right. The lunar cycle, however, always begins with the new moon.” The redhead looked at the Riddler. “Am I right?”

“You are. The answer is the moon, which rules the tides, which rule our timing tonight. So grab those lights, check your air supply, and let’s get literally down to business.”

The criminals gathered the equipment their leader had indicated and carried it beneath the waves, through a submerged passage, and into a subterranean chamber. The Riddler put his mask and mouthpiece away and held a light while his men set up another, more permanent fixture.

“Boss, there are chests of gold and jewels in every nook and cranny of this cave!” Turkel exclaimed.

“We’ll never haul all of it out tonight,” Royko said, amazed. “Some of the stuff is partially buried.”

“We’re not equipped to loot the cave tonight. I had no idea how long it would take us to find this fabulous, Viking treasure trove. After we leave, we’ll rent a boat and some salvage equipment with which we’ll return at tomorrow’s low tide,” the Riddler said.

“You really are smart, boss,” Siskel said.

“We’re all filthy rich,” Anna Gram said, throwing her arms around the Riddler.

“Don’t we have work to do, dear?” Betsy Boldface said.

“Once the lights are set up, we can go. The treasure’s been here this long, it will keep for another day. Tomorrow night we’ll spirit our booty away to United Underworld’s secret island hideout, where we’ll celebrate our success properly, and make arrangements for the biggest payoff any of you have ever imagined! I’m a filthy rich genius!” He drew Anna Gram’s body against him and giggled with uncontrollable mirth.

“If you’re finished congratulating yourself, Riddler,” an authoritative female voice began, “I have a riddle for you.”

“It’s Batgirl!” Betsy Boldface said. “How did she get in here?”

“It’s impossible!” the Riddler said, glancing at the heroine as she put away her Bat-Lung. “Yet, there she stands.”

Batgirl crossed the most gently sloping portion of the subterranean beach and took a position where she was clearly visible in the light. She took up her familiar pose with her hands on her hips and legs spreading to shoulder width before reciting, “There is something that is nothing, and yet it has a name. It joins our walks; it joins our talks; it plays in every game. What is it?”

The Riddler looked to the roof of the cave and wiggled the fingers on his right hand, as if calculating. “I’ve been . . . out-riddled!” he incredulously complained, hanging his head.

Anna Gram and Betsy Boldface exchanged glances, frowning.

Then, the Riddler looked up, his face brightening. “No, wait . . . I’ve got it! The answer is . . . a shadow!”

Batgirl smiled sweetly. “That’s right . . . and I’ve been your shadow ever since I realized the ‘match’ to which your riddle referred was the coastline in the maps I realized you had stolen from the museum! The other riddle told me the second riddle had only a ‘single” meaning – very tricky.”

“Thank you, Batgirl.” The Riddler seemed pleased by what he took as a compliment. “I have the maps, though. How did you find me?”

“There are microfilm copies of those maps at the main branch of the Gotham City Public Library. The head librarian, a Ms. Gordon, was most helpful. Now, you can give yourself up or face the consequences!”

“You’re pretty smart, Batgirl, but this time, you may have been too clever. No human eye has seen the inside of this cave for half a millennium before today, and the police will be busy covering my other possible target. So, I think this cave will make a splendid tomb – for you!” The Riddler began to jubilantly giggle and wave his men toward the heroine. Suddenly, he became utterly still and silent. When he spoke again, the Prince of Puzzlers resumed his serious, commanding manner. “Let’s get her!”

Siskel, Turkel, and Royko descended a short, steep slope to join Riddler before charging at Batgirl. Anna Gram and Betsy Boldface hung back to watch Batgirl leap; grip an overhead rock formation; and swing, slamming both heels into the Riddler’s chest. The villain sprawled, coming to rest against the slope where his women had remained. Moments later, he and the others were retreating further up the steadily steepening slope.

Siskel and Royko hit opposite sides of Batgirl's ribs as Turkel took hold of her ankles. He spun her and let her go flying into a rock formation, off of which her body bounced. The other two were waiting and slammed an elbow each into her chest, knocking her back into the formation. She was stunned as they unleashed a combination of body blows that brought the Dominoed Daredoll to her knees, moaning. As Turkel added his painful contribution to the intensive battering Batgirl was enduring, she fought her way back to her feet before assuming a fighting stance.

Turkel was her first target. She spun and thrust her foot into his breadbasket, doubling him over. She sidestepped and spun, delivering a stunning blow to Royko’s jaw. Turkel felt Batgirl’s knee impacting his nose. Her toe caught his jaw as his head snapped back, depositing him on the ground and ushering him from the fight.

Royko took a swing toward the back of her head and she fired an elbow at him sideways. He grunted.

Siskel spun Batgirl by the shoulder and sent the side of his hand slamming into her neck. Batgirl collapsed and sent the heel of her hand shooting upward as she landed on her knees. Siskel doubled over in pain and hit the sand hard as the side of Batgirl’s fist whacked his ear.

It was a movement she saw out of the corner of one eye that alerted her to Royko’s attack. She flung herself forward and rolled over the sand, letting her legs close around Royko’s, felling him like a tall tree. Batgirl stood and rammed the two thugs heads into the ground to end the fight for good.

“Now it’s your turn, Riddler!” Batgirl said, moving toward him menacingly. The criminal retreated further and Batgirl continued approaching. “You’re better than this. Twice in your criminal career you’ve uncovered archeological treasures from which the world could learn through scholastic study. Your discoveries prove there is a better use of your talents than crime. Think about it. The past is full of riddles you could help unravel. George Santayana told us, 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'”

“With all due respect to Mr. Santayana, Batgirl, you’ve forgotten something I think will prevent you from living much longer!” As Riddler began to giggle, his women suddenly emerged from nooks in the cave walls and dropped to either side of Batgirl. The Curved Crusader felt the edges of two blades press against her body.

“Make one false move, Batgirl . . .” Anna Gram began.

“. . . and we’ll carve you into sushi!” Betsy Boldface completed the thought.

Batgirl remained still. Anna Gram’s blade caressed her throat and Betsy’s lay against her hip. ‘If these two cut into my major arteries, I’ll be dead in a matter of seconds,” Batgirl thought.

“Boys,” Riddler said, “there are more swords the girls uncovered, that will make magnificent stakes to which we can fasten Batgirl.” The Prince of Puzzlers stepped toward Batgirl and grabbed her by the chin with his right hand. The heroine jerked her head away. “Oh, and I think we can do without your belt.” Seconds after Batgirl’s belt fell away from her hips, Riddler excused himself to drive a fourth blade deep into the sand, forming a rectangle a little larger than Batgirl was tall.

“Right this way, Batgirl,” Anna Gram urged, “unless, of course, you’d prefer a swifter end.” Batgirl stepped toward the rectangle the criminals had prepared for her as the ravishing redheaded rogue guided her with the sword edge.

“Lie down,” Betsy Boldface ordered. “Quickly, unless you want to die in a pool of your own blood!” Batgirl obeyed.

Anna and Betsy grinned wickedly as the men threaded handcuffs through the hand guards of each blade and clasped them around Batgirl’s extended limbs. Only then did the women withdraw their weapons.

“Comfortable?” Siskel asked.

“It doesn’t matter. That should hold you,” Royko said.

“For the rest of eternity,” Turkel added, smiling as he straightened and Batgirl began a futile struggle with her shackles.

”Unfortunately for you, Batgirl,” Riddler taunted, “the tide won’t let you last nearly that long.”

“This cave will not be my tomb, but the means of your undoing! Greed and avarice–”

“Spare me, Batgirl” Riddler said. “Boys, finish with the lights.” He returned his attention to the captive. “In just a few moments, we’ll all be going, but you will stay. The tide will come in and creep upward, inch by inch around your fabulous form, until you’re completely submerged. I’ve taken away your Bat-Lung and those small canisters of compressed air you carry, so I’m certain the cold waters of the Atlantic will ultimately leave you quite breathless.” Riddler glanced at his gang. “Are we ready?”

“No more riddles, Riddler?” Batgirl asked, interrupting.

“I’m afraid this scheme is nearly concluded. Your end will be the crowning component of my criminal caper, once all the other details have been executed. Goodbye.” Riddler’s associates laughed as their punctuated leader favored their captive with a last maniacal giggle. When their laughter subsided, the only sound was a faint, repetitive beeping.

“What’s that?” Anna Gram asked, cocking her head to try to hear the unexpected sound.

“I don’t know,” the Ridder said, becoming utterly still. “Find out!”

Royko, Siskel, and Turkel began to methodically search the cavern. As they worked, Anna Gram continued to listen to the telltale beep.

Betsy Boldface walked around Batgirl and examined the criminals’ handiwork closely. “She knows what it is,” the blonde henchwoman declared. The trapped heroine was gripping the chains of the handcuffs restraining her hands and straining at the small, tiny links. “I’ll bet we’d find out what’s making that noise if Batgirl were to open her hands.”

“There is no point in playing around,” the Riddler decided. “Girls, cut off Batgirl’s hands, unless she opens them in the next minute.” Betsy Boldface and Anna Gram poised their blades, waiting. The second the swords began slicing toward her, Batgirl opened her hands, spreading her fingers. The blades’ descent halted as the sword edges touched her flesh.

A silver tube with a pulsing red light fell to the sand.

“A tracer,” the Riddler disappointedly said.

“That’s right, Riddler. It’s been operating since I swam in here. I’m confident you’ll soon have a lot more to worry about than me. The police, the Coast Guard, the Navy, and Batman will all be receiving that frequency! Give up your mad, criminal scheme.”

“That isn’t fair, Batgirl. We took all your equipment away.” Riddler glanced at his attractive aides, who were still poised to lacerate his helpless captive. “Never mind her now.” He looked back at the spread-eagled heroine. “This little device won’t do you a bit of good.” He picked it up and disassembled it, which shut it off. Then, he tossed the pieces into the chamber’s central pool. “I think your belt should follow.” The villain snapped his fingers and was handed the golden treasure trove. Lovingly, the Riddler first ran it through his hands, then let it fly. Batgirl’s utility belt landed in the pool with a splash.

“Now, you’ll be taking a little snooze. The cold salt water might awaken you . . . before you die.”

“My Bat-Sleep!” Batgirl said, horrified, before she felt the spray applied to her face.

“Good nightmares, Batgirl,” the Riddler softly said. Batgirl felt herself drift easily into a comfortable, velvety blackness.

“Gosh, Riddler,” Anna Gram said, “this time, sleeping beauty really is finished.”

“Don’t go soft on us now,” Betsy Boldface admonished.

“I’m not,” the redhead protested, recalling Riddler’s mood after he thought Batgirl had been killed. “It’s just–”

“We’ll talk about it topside,” the Riddler said. “We, like Batgirl, are at the mercy of the tides. Come.” He replaced his diving mask and checked his air tanks before taking his leave through the flooded, subterranean tunnel. Without as much as another glance at the shapely, slumbering sentinel, the others followed.

She felt fortunate Riddler had left the lights on, so she could see what she was doing, rather than relying exclusively on her sense of touch. She found her lock pick and began to carefully retrieve it. She knew giving in to the desire to hurry this process might prove fatal. Unless she could retrieve the lock pick, she would die. If the tiny tool slipped through her fingers, she would certainly be finished. Batgirl felt a breath she had been holding release and her body relax as the lock pick came free from the glove and remained between her fingers. She began to attack the lock with the tool. A few minutes later, her right arm was free.

The water was creeping quickly up her legs as Batgirl reached for her left wrist. She freed her left arm with practiced ease, but the water level had raised to her waist by that time. She sat up and bent to free her shivering legs, which were utterly submerged.

When her shaking, gloved hands had finished freeing her quivering legs, the chilling water had risen to the point her breasts touched its surface when she bent forward. She stood and retreated to where the sandy slope grew steep and climbed to a point ten feet above the continuously rising water level, where she vigorously rubbed her legs, thus warming them. She knew she would have to dive and swim through the passage that had brought her into the cavern, which would now be submerged in increasingly deepening water . . . and this time, without an air supply!

Batgirl was painfully aware of how debilitating the cold water could be and shed her cape to swim as quickly as possible. “Here we go!” Batgirl said. She dropped to the gently sloping sand and charged, splashing through the shallow water nipping at her toes, until she reached the point she had selected to leap and plunge headfirst into the chamber’s central pool.

The illumination of the filling death chamber extended neither to the frigid depths of the central pool nor the passage connecting it and the Atlantic Ocean. Batgirl pulled herself down with strong strokes, feeling her way as she searched for the passage. She found an aperture and moved through it, grudgingly releasing a tiny bit of air from her lungs. Batgirl followed the passage until it grew too narrow to follow further before regretfully retreating. She knew she would never be able to swim from the cave and to the ocean’s surface without filling her lungs again. Worse, she could feel her toes and fingertips going numb.

Minutes later, Batgirl returned to the cave and clung to a rock formation near the water’s edge, inhaling greedily. Because her calves and forearms had begun to shiver and the gently sloping beach had utterly submerged, she decided it would be necessary to dive again immediately. This time, however, she would not have the benefit of the downward thrust she had gained by diving from above the pool. Her next trip down would start from the water’s constantly rising surface.

As she descended a second time, she considered how helpful some of the devices from her utility belt might be for finding the passage leading to freedom and life. Riddler had thrown her belt into the pool. ‘Is it worth searching the bottom of the pool for my utility belt?’ She pulled herself down beyond the aperture she had found the first time she had dived. The cold became more intense as the darkness deepened and Batgirl’s lungs began to ache for oxygen. She let more air out and continued downward. If she could find her belt, the compressed air would replenish her air supply. Her hands had just reached the bottom of the pool when she felt her tortured lungs demand oxygen. Grudgingly, she let out more air and let her hands begin searching for the belt. Her vision was useless. She pulled herself toward the bottom and moved her hands hurriedly over the rocks, finding nothing.

Batgirl pushed off of the bottom of the pool with her feet and propelled herself to the surface with powerful strokes and churning legs. As she ascended, she released the tiny amount of air that remained in her lungs. Her arms and legs moved with practiced ease and Batgirl was painfully aware of the water that had filled the chamber since she had first dived into the pool. She was even beginning to consider the fatal act of inhaling water when she saw the first glimmer of the lights she knew illuminated the treasure trove above. More powerful strokes brought her to the surface, where she filled her lungs greedily and swam to the water’s edge.

“Won’t . . . find . . . the belt,” Batgirl said as she weakly pulled herself onto a narrow ledge atop a rock formation. There, she panted, shivering while the water’s edge approached steadily and rapidly. More vigorous rubbing warmed her as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Got to get out of here,” she murmured. Glancing around, she was horrified at the amount of water that had entered the chamber and continued to fill it. She dared not voice the thought that accompanied her observation. ‘If I can’t find the way out soon . . . .‘

Cold chilled her to the bone as Batgirl plunged into the deep, dark waters once again and pulled herself past the submerged, sandy beach with powerful strokes. She reasoned the incoming water would enter the chamber through the passage she sought and paused to try to discern the flow of the water periodically. Ultimately, she found an aperture and felt incoming water push her backward. She straightened and swam into the passage, where she instantly became conscious of how hard she was working to swim against the tide. Her lungs ached and she convulsed unexpectedly due to the cold. Dejectedly, Batgirl turned and retreated, swimming upward the second she emerged from the passage.

As she approached the water’s surface, Batgirl became aware of a strange, impossibly loud wheezing groaning sound that seemed to correspond with a flashing light above the surface of the water. ‘It’s a hallucination,’ Batgirl decided. The Riddler had finally achieved what countless criminals had worked to accomplish. ‘I must be dying,’ she thought, despite the fact her body continued to swim continuously upward.

She knew she was dying when her head finally broke the surface of the water. She saw a tall, blue box materialize from thin air before her eyes . . . that remained positioned on the surface of the water!

Instinctively, she filled her lungs. Moments later, she had processed the arrival of what she knew to be a futuristic craft.

“Impossible!” she said, exhaling. She had seen it once before, but her oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t make the connection.

As Batgirl’s mind wrestled with the unlikely apparition, she became aware that adrenaline had enabled her to continue swimming mechanically in the frigid water much longer than she would have been able otherwise. The knowledge came because now her strength was failing. Batgirl rolled onto her back, closed her eyes, and began to float, slowly propelling herself toward the nearest cavern wall, where rock formations offered temporary refuge from her impending doom.

Before Batgirl reached relative, temporary safety, she felt a pair of hands slide beneath her armpits and lift her into a warm environment like nothing she had ever seen. When her eyes opened, she was instantly aware of a large, brightly lit room, with white walls covered with circular impressions. Then, arms supported her shoulders and lifted her knees. Someone carried her across the room past an hexagonal console with a central column filled with what looked like glowing rods and laid her on a bed that extended from the wall opposite the room’s double doors.

“What’s happening?” Batgirl asked, when the warmth of the room was reinforced as a blanket spread over her.

“I’ll explain everything very soon. Rest now,” a kindly voice gently said Batgirl blinked and smiled as she felt her lungs expand, contract, and expand once again.

The wheezing, groaning sound reverberated and the column in the console rose and fell as the glowing tubes inside it also rose and fell at different rates. Batgirl watched a tall, white haired man wearing a red-lined, black cloak; a black, velvet jacket; matching slacks; a pair of black, leather gloves; a black, string tie; and a frilly, white shirt bend over the console. After a moment, the strange sound shook the room again. “Jo,” the man called. “Would you come out here please?”

A bubbly woman with short blonde hair wearing a long-sleeved, black and tan striped turtleneck as well as black slacks tucked into matching, knee-high boots stepped into the room. “Batgirl, this is Jo Grant. Jo, this is Batgirl. Our guest has just improbably escaped certain death. Would you keep an eye on her while I attend to some unfinished business.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jo said with a discernable English accent, smiling at Batgirl.

“Thank you very much,” the man said. “You two should have a lot to talk about, as you are the two top female escapologists of your time. First though, Jo, would you open the doors while you’re right there?” The woman flipped a switch, the double doors swung inward and the man continued, “I’ll be back soon. This little adventure won’t take long,” he promised, waving cheerfully and stepping through the doors.

Batgirl sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “So,” she said, “I’m not dreaming or dying?”

“No,” Jo replied kindly. “It can all be overwhelming the first time. Maybe you should tell me what happened.”

“The Riddler tried to kill me and your leader seems to have come to my rescue. Do you know who the Riddler is?”

“I think so. As for his Majesty, he can be like that . . . sometimes.”

“Who is he?”

Jo Grant took a breath. “You said you were nearly murdered by the Riddler?”

“That’s right. What about my question?”

“Which one?”

Batgirl smiled. “Who is ‘his Majesty’ and stop stalling.”

“All right, Batgirl,” Jo said. “You’ll be glad you’re sitting down when I tell you the man who saved your life is none other than His Royal Majesty . . . the Clock King.”

“I knew I’d seen that tall, blue box before!” Batgirl declared. Then her eyes narrowed behind her mask and she asked skeptically, “The Clock King saved my life?”

“Apparently.”

“What’s he doing now?” Batgirl wondered aloud.

“Let’s see,” Jo suggested, striding to the console and manipulating a control while gazing at an overhead screen. Batgirl stood and walked to the woman’s side, letting the blanket envelope her as she crossed the room.

As Batgirl watched on the screen, the well-dressed man Jo had said was the Clock King stood on the beach, illuminated by the rising sun. Soon, a man wearing a wetsuit with a green question mark on the chest emerged from the sea.

“Ah, the Riddler I presume,” the Clock King said. “Just the chap for whom I’ve been waiting.”

“Riddler should be long gone by now,” Batgirl said, clearly puzzled.

“I can understand why you’d think so,” Jo said, favoring the heroine with a sympathetic smile.

“Who are you?” the Riddler demanded.

“A man you’ve met once before . . . in Time, Illinois.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve only been to Time once in my life.” As Riddler spoke he stepped onto the beach, “and I don’t recognize you.”

“No. Now that you mention it, I don’t suppose you would,” Clock King thoughtfully said. “Still, I tell you, your time has come!” The Clock King reached for the Prince of Puzzlers, extended two fingers and lifted the supervillain without seeming to exert himself!

“What are you doing? I can’t breath!” the Riddler said, croaking as his legs kicked uselessly in midair.

“This is ridiculous!” Clock King declared, dropping the Riddler, who fell immediately to the ground.

“How did you do that?’ Riddler demanded, recovering his breath.

“Think of it as a riddle,” the Clock King invited. “Here. Pay attention!” Riddler inhaled as the strange man stooped and touched his chin with two fingers, lifting the arch criminal to his feet and into the air as Clock King straightened.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not alone!” Riddler warned.

The Clock King turned, letting go of the criminal who collapsed helplessly, and noted the rest of Riddler’s gang emerging from the water.

A silver cylinder vaguely resembling a screwdriver appeared in his hand and he twisted the top. A high-pitched tone sounded continuously as Royko, Siskel, Turkel, Betsy Boldface, and Anna Gram all collapsed helplessly once they reached the safety of the beach. Clock King put the strange device away.

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be so grandiose, old chap. Ours, however, is to be a private chat.” He reached down and yanked the Riddler to his feet. “Where were we? Oh, yes. The cavalry was coming to your rescue. Well, you‘re all alone now.”

The Riddler cried out, suddenly startled as the Clock King swept his arm in a wide arc, flinging the gang leader head over heels onto the sand.

“What did you do to them?”

“Nothing permanent,” the Clock King coldly answered, approaching the fallen Riddler, who stared up at him with wide eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The Clock King smiled, reached down, and yanked him to his feet again. “You’ll see. Now, on your feet, Riddler.”

“Before you do anything,” the Riddler pleaded, “at least tell me why.”

“Very well, old chap,” Clock King said kindly. “During your visit just outside the hamlet of Time, you attacked my associates and me in one of the most cowardly and underhanded manners imaginable.”

“That was you we gassed?” Riddler asked, extending a finger at the older man. The Prince of Puzzlers suddenly snatched at Clock King’s tie. He hoped to choke his attacker, but only succeeded in tearing it from his opponent’s throat.

Clock King flung the Riddler aside contemptuously. “Indeed it was, Riddler, and you knew it perfectly well! It was also me who spent the next several months in jail – wasting time! The situation was utterly and completely intolerable! Now, I have the opportunity to thank you for it at last, and I shall do so properly, particularly since you’ve just utterly ruined my appearance!”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me!” Riddler pleaded.

“Kill you?” Clock King asked, hauling the fallen supervillain back to his feet. “What an interesting idea. Right, Riddler, defend yourself!”

The Riddler cried out in terror as the older man stepped toward him. Riddler raised his arms in a pathetic attempt at self-defense and cowered. “You can’t do this to me!” Riddler protested.

“I strongly disagree,” the Clock King said, stepping toward the cowering supervillain. Riddler screamed, retreating.

Inside the Clock King’s craft, Jo watched impassively as the Riddler scooted backwards, retreating from his enemy. “I’m not going to stand here and watch Clock King beat the Riddler to death!” Batgirl said.

“You can’t stop him,” Jo replied.

“You may be right, but I have to try.”

“Well, I can turn off the monitor, if it will you make you feel better.”

Batgirl suddenly realized she didn’t have the slightest idea where she was. ‘That picture could be coming from miles away – but, no! Clock King just stepped outside!’ Batgirl’s thinking began to clear.

“Why don’t you open those doors for me?”

“I don’t think the Clock King would like that very much.”

“In that case, it’s a good thing I watched you open them earlier.” Batgirl stepped toward the console.

Jo stepped forward to bar Batgirl’s way. “I can’t let you out of the ship.”

‘Ship?’ Batgirl thought. Menacingly she said, “Get out of my way!”

The women stood still, staring at one another. Clock King’s assistant regarded Batgirl’s unwavering eyes for a long moment before stepping aside. “All right. I don’t think I can really stop you. I know cryptography; safecracking; explosives; and, as his Majesty told you, escapology. I’m afraid I don’t excel at unarmed combat.”

“Even so, you’re a charming tactician,” Batgirl said.

“Thank you. What was the most deadly situation from which you’ve ever escaped?”

“I can’t talk shop if I’m going to intervene in the fight we’re watching,” Batgirl pointed out, regarding the smiling girl. Her gaze grew more intense as she went on, ”I’ll need those doors opened, Jo—now!”

The girl gestured toward the console. “If you get it wrong, I’m not helping.”

“Fair enough,” Batgirl said. She moved to the console and examined the controls, trying to recall how the girl had opened the doors. ‘What will happen if I push the wrong button?’ she worried. After a moment, she reached down and operated a lever. A hum reverberated through the well-illuminated chamber before the doors opened toward Batgirl.

“I hope you’re enjoying your private demonstration of Venusian martial arts!” the Clock King said, smiling as the Riddler picked himself up from where he had fallen on the sand once again.

“Please stop!” Riddler shrieked as the man approached him inexorably. “I’ll give you anything! I can make you rich!” The punctuated villain retreated, pain accompanying every movement.

“I’m already rich,” Clock King mercilessly said, approaching.

“There must be something,” Riddler said, pleading.

“Well, you haven’t given me a challenge,” the Clock King said, disappointedly.

“Maybe you like antiques,” Riddler said with renewed hope. “I’ve found a hoard of Viking treasure.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I give up,” the Riddler said, collapsing to his knees and letting his head fall into his hands.

Batgirl had looked back in astonishment upon walking through the double doors. ‘It’s that 1950's English police box! Why, it’s bigger on the inside than the outside!’ Rather than voice her obvious observation, she strode toward the well-dressed villain and his beaten victim.

“That’s enough, Clock King!”

“Batgirl?” The Riddler turned toward her and stared. “You should very nearly be dead. There was no escape from that cave for you.”

“You should be very glad you’re wrong,” Batgirl said.

Riddler began to climb to his feet and felt himself shoved forward, back to the ground. “I believe you’re finished, Riddler!” the Clock King said.

“Leave him alone!”

“As you wish, Batgirl.”

Batgirl sprinted off to retrieve a secondary utility belt from its place underneath the seat of the Batgirlcycle before re-approaching the criminals. She crouched, snapped Batcuffs on the Riddler’s wrists, and straightened. “Now, it’s your turn, Clock King.”

“I had rather hoped saving you would earn me a one-time pass.”

“Not a chance. I believe there are charges pending against you in connection with events leading to the release of Susan Foreman from prison. There are also questions in regard to her whereabouts, not to mention the abductions of Mrs. Harriet Cooper and Alfred Pennyworth, whom you held for a ransom you demanded I deliver.”

“Batgirl, look at me. Do I look like the man who arranged Susan’s release?”

“Well . . . no, but you haven’t denied the charges I’ve cited and I know for a fact you’ve changed your appearance before!”

“It’s all very mysterious, isn’t it?” Clock King said mischievously, a twinkle in his eye.

“Prosecuting you for your crimes is the task of the State.”

”So, you just head out like a mind-numbed robot and arrest people for the State? How Orwellian.”

“I know you have committed crimes and will be helping build the case against you.”

“Look.” Clock King pointed at Royko, Siskel, Turkel, Anna Gram, and Betsy Boldface recovering. “You and I can fight, but I think you’ll find I’ll have allies in a moment."

"You think?" Batgirl challenged. "You attacked them."

"Perhaps. Let’s just call it a draw for now and fight another day.”

Batgirl shrugged. “Thank you for apprehending the Riddler. I’ll give you full credit for his capture, as well as for saving my life. You deserve it.”

“Another time, then, Batgirl. Honestly, I’d rather pit my wits against you than Batman.”

“Why?” Batgirl asked. “Batman is the world’s greatest detective.”

“He is regarded as such . . . for now,” Clock King confirmed. “I have the benefit of the TARDIS.”

“Your disappearing, reappearing blue box that’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside?”

“Precisely. I’m a little surprised you waited until now to describe the TARDIS. Most people remark about it inside.”

Batgirl saw no reason to admit she could offer no plausible explanation for many incidents with which Clock King was connected. “I’m not most people, Clock King,” she declared. Then, underneath her cowl, her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you suggesting – are you seriously implying that police box of yours is . . . a time machine?”

“Well, I met Riddler here before he emerged from the water, after leaving you to die. How do you think I did that, if I didn’t have a time machine?”

Batgirl looked at him uncertainly. “I don’t know.” After thinking for a moment, she continued. “Help me understand how your time machine lets me be in two places at the same time.”

“How is it you are in two places at the same time?”

“As we speak, I’m shackled in the cave waiting to drown. Aren’t I?”

“Not at all,” Clock King explained. “I rescued you between the time you spent in the cave and now.”

“What would happen if I swam from here into the cave? Would I be there, waiting to drown?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Clock King replied. “You already know you didn’t find yourself in the cave before I rescued you.”

“So, we know I didn’t swim to the cave in the future because I didn’t rescue myself in the past?”

“Precisely,” Clock King happily said. “I’m delighted you understand.”

Batgirl decided the best thing to do would be to change the subject and recalled how close she had come to dying. She smiled and said, “Thank you again for saving my life.”

“Oh, you’re quite welcome. I trust you’ll let me go now?”

Batgirl hesitated and Clock King stepped past her, opening the door to his craft. He turned to regard Batgirl with a smile.

“Fear not, my dear. I really am looking forward to the battle of wits you and I will have when we meet again. Until next time.” Clock King bowed to Batgirl formally.

“I’m sorry I let Batgirl get away, Your Majesty,“ Jo apologized, as the Clock King tossed his gloves and cloak onto the console.

“Think nothing of it, Jo. It would have been a pity not to let her go when we went to all the trouble of saving her. Besides, we haven’t finished with the Riddler just yet.” The ship dematerialized.

“What do you mean?”

“With a little work, we can make our friend the Riddler appear to be a raving lunatic, and unless I’m very much mistaken, the authorities will insist a doctor cares for him to see that he maintains his sanity.”

Jo regarded her leader thoughtfully for a moment and grinned as her eyes sparkled. “You mean the medics will use drugs, psych tests, and constant observation on him, making him feel like a bug in a jar?”

“Precisely.” The ship rematerialized. “Here we are.” The perfidious pair emerged from the ship into the Viking treasure cave.

“What will we do with all of this?”

“I have an old friend who just recently earned a doctorate degree,” the Clock King said. “I think we can use it to fund her research privately.”

Jo thought she spotted a flaw in her mentor’s plan. “Won’t Batgirl keep the Riddler from being institutionalized?”

“Possibly. I think, though, she believes the Riddler is mentally ill anyway and would benefit from the treatment. Who knows? Riddler might even reform.”

“Let’s get to work,” Jo enthused. “This is a great opportunity for your friend. With private funding, she won’t have to worry about pesky regulations or official interference of any kind.” Her eyes glittered. “She’ll be able to literally do whatever she wants.” Jo looked around at the vast wealth before them. “Are we going to keep any of it for ourselves?”

“I do have a one million dollar debt to repay. The time is right to prepare for my royal return. Why do you ask?”

“As you know, I’m very committed to environmentalism.”

“More so than to your late husband?”

“It was his idea to eat nothing but fungus while we were exploring the Amazon. In a tragic moment when I must have been a complete airhead, I accidently served the wrong one.” Jo shrugged.

“Is that what the inquest said?”

The girl grinned, somehow portraying childlike innocence. “Of course. The estate auditors were very generous with the grant money, too. Besides, I’d rather be with you, anyway.”

“I’m delighted I was available for you in your hour of need. As I recall your performance was--”

“Profitable,” Jo said simply. Then she smirked. “You’ve been very generous to me since then, in so many ways, Your Majesty. I don’t really think I can ever thank you enough.”

“Not to worry, Jo,” the Clock King gallantly said. “You’ve reciprocated my kindness more than adequately, and thank you very much.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I think I’ve completely recovered.” Jo laughed without humor and rubbed her hands together greedily. “Now, shall we get to work?”

“By all means.”

Barbara Gordon read the headline about the Riddler’s hospitalization a few weeks later. “The cave was empty when searchers found it?” she murmured, setting the article beside the clippings she had taken from the story, which prominently featured Vicki Vale’s pictures.

“Charlie,” she said to her pet parrot, “the Clock King took all that treasure! Now, if what he led me to believe is true, it could be anywhere on Earth in any era!” She paused as realization dawned upon her. “It wouldn’t even have to be on Earth if that ship can move through space, too. I’ve seen the ship on three occasions, in three different places.”

She leaned back and sipped her morning cup of tea. 'There’s nothing I can do to help Riddler unless I find that treasure. Only tangible proof will vindicate him now. So, the next time I face the Clock King, we’ll have something to discuss!’ she thought.

Meanwhile, it was a new day and the library waited.

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