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

that's Sultan of Sleothing, 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.

They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and as far as I can see, that's just about right.

Oh, I have no hard data to support that conclusion.

I have conducted no double-blind study.

My findings have been published in no peer-reviewed scientific journals.

It could be argued that the very premise fails at basic rigor.

What's that?

Why, yes, I have been dating an astrophysicist, thank you for asking.

His name is Ethan, and he's adorable as a hamster, nearly twice is useless.

But Miss Dixon has not yet had a comet named after her,

so she bides her time for just a little while longer.

All of this is at least somewhat beside the point.

What was I on about?

Oh, yes, good deeds in the cosmic retribution for same.

So exactly how can I feel so comfortable with the accuracy of this old saw? Evidence. My kind of evidence, not little Ethan's. For him, the only

true evidence is that which is absolute, and theories change and evolve slowly over time. I have pointed

out to him on more than one occasion that were a girl detective to wait

for proof that positive before acting, she would quickly spoil her new hat with an unsightly bullet hole.

At this, the discussion falls into laps, as Ethan purrs like a kitten when I talk rough,

...