But first, some happy business! When last we left them, Killer Moth had just cut himself to ribbons crashing his desperately flailing limbs through a giant glass window in order to escape another Batman beatdown.
Actually, this is a phenomenon in all superhero comics. It’s just particularly egregious in Golden Age comics, because in those days child mortality was so high that writers didn’t have to concern themselves much with continuity.
Yes, Bruce, I agree; whenever I'm part of a group of people held personally accountable for rare and valuable historical artifacts that are stolen right from under our noses the very first thing I think is: "DINNER PARTY!"
Stupid fop; no wonder no one ever suspects that Bruce Wayne is Batman. It would be like finding out the Matthew McConnaughy is Batman.
Green Arrow, on the hand, I would totally believe.
Bruce, brilliant detective that he is, manages to eliminate Homer "Captain Kangaroo" Forsythe and Abel "Did someone remember to trim the crusts off my watercress sandwich?" Howe as suspects because they're not covered in cuts. So it's down to Perry "Pickle-Ass" Winslow and Cameron "Milk, please!" Van Cleer.
"You; woman with two right hands; take my coat."
"Perry, I'm your wife!'
"Don't remind me."
Well, this being just “Frasier with more murder”, some ridiculousness happens that causes Winslow to be covered in sharp wounds, like an attack by the non-lethal Golden Age Mr. Zsasz or an exploding quire of fine paper or hysterical empathy for DeGrassi’s Ellie Nash.
Oh, wait, no; the aforementioned ridiculousness is actually ... Killer Moth!
What the hell's in those glasses? Sodium-19 on the rocks?
All those 'oops so and so is about to discover such and such's secret identity' games that Superman always played with Lois Lane? Yeah, Batman plays those with Killer Moth. So, Killer Moth=Lois Lane; put that in your conceptual calculator.
Once again Batman is stymied and unable to detectify whether Killer Moth is Perry Winslow or Cameron Van Cleer is Killer Moth. Why not just punch them both in the face and see which one feels most familiar? Anyway, all the directors sit down to have drinks after dinner and watch Winslow slowly bleed to death.
Killer Moth orders milk. M I L K. For anyone else you'd assume that's just part of the "I'm so effete, I couldn't possibly be a caped adventurer" routine. But Killer Moth actually IS a milksop.
So in case you missed the implication in Howe's dialog balloon (or just nodded off while he was blathering), the PRE-INCAN MOTH IDOLS WHICH SOMEONE TRIED TO STEAL TWICE ALREADY ARE STILL NOT LOCKED UP AND THERE IS A MOTH-THEMED VILLAIN ON THE LOOSE. No wonder there's so much crime in Gotham City; everyone there is really asking for it. "Let's walk home from the theater through this dark alley, Mary!" Morons.
Sure enough. while everyone is distracted because Winslow's finally bled out and keeled over, Cameron prestoes into Killer Moth to steal the remaining idols with Batman not far behind. They catch up with him in .... the Hall of Electricity.
By the way... one million candle power? Not as impressive as it sounds. Candles suck.
Anyway, Killer Moth shoots out the lights he can escape, and Batman has Robin turn on the giant black light bulb, just as if it's my brother's room in 1974.
Once again Killer Moth has escaped! And this time without falling off or crashing through anything.
OR HAS HE...!?!?
Batman had already deduced who Killer Moth was! But HOW?!
Science... and MILK.
Yes, folks, those are, in fact:
Sleep well tonight.