Once again, Decoder Ring Theater presents another page from the casebook of that Master of Mystery,

that's Sultan of Sleuthing, Martin Bracknell's immortal detective, Black Jack Justice,

starring Christopher Mott as Jack and Andrea Lyons as Trixie Dixon Girl Detective.

The name's Dixon. Trixie Dixon, girl detective. The name's Dixon. Trixie Dixon, girl detective.

Folks have had an awful lot to say about law over the years.

They say that law is order, and good law is good order.

That's fair enough, I suppose, even if it's oversimplified to the point of being meaningless.

In a world where good is as open to interpretation as it is an hour broken down little corner of the cosmos,

anyone and anything is good in someone's eyes, and less than good in millions of others.

When somebody wins, somebody else loses, and it's rarely much more fair than that. But in the big bad

city Jack and I called home, whether we cared to admit it or not, there was one fellow you

could usually count on for a brand of order that appealed to us. He wasn't the commissioner

or the chief, and he probably never would be. But he had a keen sense of irony as a form

of natural law, and he wasn't above

resting an oversized thumb on the scales of justice from time to time. Police Lieutenant Sabian.

Sabian was a world-class pain in the neck, but he was a good cop, in that entirely subjective

sense of the word. He generally helped us out of a jam, willingly or no, and he didn't take us

into custody half as often as we deserved. This we found good. Somebody once said law stands mute

in the midst of arms. I was never completely clear on what that meant, but it was painted over

the blackboard in the exclusive school for wayward girls' estate was kind enough to put me up in for three

semesters. In response to a string of petty b'anese for which I will maintain to my dying day,

I was framed. Law stands mute in the midst of arms. Whoever wrote that had never met Sabian. He'd

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