Signal Gasoline. Let every traffic signal remind you, you do go farther with signal. Yes, you do go farther with signal. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by The Whistler. Tonight, the dead man laughs. I am a man of the heart. I am a man of the Whistler. And I know many things before I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who've stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. That a man should laugh is not strange. That Henry Baker laughed, and under the circumstances, was very strange. Or so the reporters seemed to think. But then they didn't know. They had no idea of why Henry laughed. And so they didn't see the humor of the situation. But suppose we start back at the beginning, and perhaps it will be clearer. In the beginning, there was Charles Finch. Charles Finch, aging, gray, growing bold, with a pronounced bulge at the girth. A man respected and admired in the community. President of a large construction company. Successful or so it seemed. But it all started the day Charles Finch sat across the desk from his partner, Malcolm Guthrie. Big, bluff, and hard. And Charles said, Guthrie, you can't do this to me. You can't. And as a word, you taught me never to use Finch. And I learned to listen well. I not only can, I'm doing it. In fact, I've done it. I am now sole owner of the Finch and Guthrie construction company, and you're out. Completely. Malcolm, how can you do a thing like that? You know what this company means to me. I started it. I built it. Made it successful. It's my whole life. I've sacrificed everything for it. Marriage, a home, happiness, everything. You can't know what you're doing to me. Oh, Finch, you're a fool. A fool? Yes, a fool. If you gave up everything for this, a fool if you let it mean so much to you, a fool if you didn't protect yourself any better than you did. Well, I'm not a sentimentalist, Finch. I'm a hard-headed businessman. I saw my chance to feather my own nest, and I took it. You'd have done the same if you'd been smart enough, but you weren't. No. So I won. And you're finished. You cold-blooded swindler. Get out, Finch. All right. All right. You don't have to throw me out. I'll go. But you haven't heard the last of me yet, Guthrie. I'll pay you back if it's the last thing I ever do. Oh, yeah? I'm scared to death. What'll you do? Kill me, I suppose, eh? Might not be a bad idea. Yeah? Well, you'd better make it good, Finch. You'd better figure all the angles. Plenty of people know how you feel about me. And if they found me, plug, you'd try for it, and you know it. So you'd better figure something practically perfect, Finch, if you can. Okay. Maybe I'll do that. I'm not worried. You haven't got the guts or the brains. Go on, Finch. Beat it. Beat it. Get out of here, and I don't want to see you around here anymore. Don't worry. You'll see me again only once more, and it'll be the last look you'll ever have of me or anyone. You're as good as dead now. So long, Guthrie. After the prologue of tonight's story, the dead man laughed, the Signal Oil Company brings you another of the strange tales of the Whistler. Now, before the story continues, the Signal Oil Company wants to pass along the War Production Board warning to drivers about increasingly serious shortage of tires. Due to stepped-up military needs, the already low quota of new civilian tires for the first quarter of this year has been cut over 30 percent. It's plain to see what this is going to mean. With so few new tires available, the only way to be sure your car will have tires is to keep your present tires in sound condition so they can be successfully recapped. Little injuries to the outer walls must be promptly repaired before they can spread and weaken the important inner carcass of the tire. And retreading must be done before the present tread is worn too thin. This requires two things. One, frequent inspection by the man with the experience and know-how of your signal gasoline dealer. And two, the finer quality workmanship and materials that the name Signal stands for. Yes, and there's a third point. Your cooperation in not putting off this service until you have a flat and your tire is damaged beyond retreading. The tire shortage is now. Your tires need signals go farther service now. And the place to get it is your neighborhood gasoline dealer. And now, back to the whistler. Well, Charles Finch, Malcolm Guthrie has only himself to blame for what is coming, doesn't he? He gave you not only the motive for murder by swindling you out of your share of the company, he gave you also the idea for murder. His murder, which you promised to carry out. But how, Charles? How? You haven't figured that out yet, have you? And as Guthrie said, it has got to be good, very good, because you don't want to die for it, do you? And so you rack your brains for the perfect crime and you're lost in thought as you walk home along your usual path through the park. Lost in thought until. Hey, mister. Huh? Mister, you couldn't help a fellow out, could you? I haven't had a bite to eat all day. Oh, oh, sure. I, I. Say, haven't I seen you around here before? Well, maybe. I sort of stay here in the park sometimes. I haven't got a home to go to. Yes, yes. Well, here, here's a quarter. Gee, thanks, mister. Thanks. It's all right. Yes, it's all right. Now what's on your mind, Charles? Why are you standing there staring after the shabby tramp as he shuffles off through the hash joint on the corner? What's that look in your eye? And what did you mean by it's all right? Yes, that's it. Of course. What could be more perfect? Yes, perfect, isn't it, Charles? The very idea you needed. And what makes it so funny is that Guthrie furnished this for you, too. It was he who one day, as the two of you walked through this park, pointed out the tramp. Yes, the very same tramp. And what was it Guthrie called him? A dead ringer. A dead ringer for me. Yes. Yes, Charles, a dead ringer. Same age, same size, same graying, balding head, same punch. It was a funny coincidence at the time. Now it's funny, but in a different way, because that shabby old tramp has started the ideas going around in your head. And you follow him, don't you, Charles? Watching him go into the hash joint, order some food and sit down. You pace up and down in front of the door, watching him eat. And by his manner, you realize something that's almost too good to be true. You go in and slip into the chair beside him. You mind if I sit down here? Yeah, huh? Oh, no, no, I guess not. You know, I'm surprised you're able to eat sandwiches so well with your false teeth. I never can. Oh, I get along all right. Say, it was swell of you to stake me for this. I, maybe I can pay you back sometime. Oh, forget it, forget it. You haven't got a job, have you? Just who are you, mister? Cop? Cop? Oh, certainly not. What's your racket? No racket, I assure you. This is strictly legal, strictly on the up and up. Yeah? Well, I've been plenty careful so far. I never been pulled in by the bulls and I don't want to begin now. I assure you, what I have to offer will get you in no trouble with the police. What do you have, mister? Oh, oh, uh, ham and eggs, please. Oh. Okay. I'm listening. Well, it's this way. I want you to help win a bet for me tonight. Huh? Yes, I have a friend of mine that, well, I bet him that I could pick up a hobo off the street, clean and dress him up and pass him off as a polished businessman. I think you're the man I need. You're just about my size, so my clothes will fit you and you can have them to keep afterwards. And what else goes with them? Oh, yes, yes. A hundred dollars. I might even throw in a bottle of scotch, which is more valuable these days. For one nice word. Is that a lot of dough for just a joke? Well, I, I'm not financially strapped exactly. No, I guess you're not. But, uh, you're sure this is legal, all right? You know, I can't afford to take no chances. Absolutely. Oh, here's my card. It has my address. I'll expect you there tonight. Hmm. Hey, hey, this is a long walk. Way out there. Oh, here. Here's five dollars. That should get you there. And don't spend it on liquor. I'll have plenty of that and good stuff when you get there. Okay. Don't worry. For the rest of this lettuce, I'll be there with bells on. Oh, we can do without the bells. As a matter of fact, since this is to be a surprise, be sure to keep it a secret. Better come in through the side door from the side street and don't let anybody see you come in. Huh? Well, he, uh, he might come early. I wouldn't want the joke spoiled just by his seeing you go in. He's taking chances. Oh, yeah. Okay. I'll get in all right. About eight then? Yeah. Fine. Don't worry. You'll see. It'll be a great joke. In fact, it'll kill him. Yes, it will, won't it, Charles? You figured the perfect way to kill Malcolm Guthrie. And this tramp is going to be a big help, a big help. You'll never get another chance like this one. Never. Maybe that's why you're so nervous as you pace the floor of your home waiting for him to come. Supposing he doesn't. Suppose he got drunk with that five dollars. Suppose he's lying in some gutter somewhere right now. You'd never find another perfect double like that. Even to the false teeth. You were a fool to trust the hobo, Charles. He's probably taken your five and headed out of town. But no, there he is, right on the dot of eight. And you breathe a sigh of relief as you open the door. Hi, mister. Well, hello, hello. Come in. You're right on time. Glad you could come. Well, some way out she got here. You weren't kidding when you said she was well-heeled. Oh, it'll do. And it won't be long before you fit right into the surroundings as if it were yours. Well, I don't know about that. I kind of feel like a fish out of water. But if you think so... You were careful about coming in. Nobody saw you. Oh, no, no. I'm sure nobody saw me. Wasn't nobody inside. Good, good. Now, if you'll just step into the bathroom over here, you'll find everything you need. Shaving things. Take a good, close shave, a hot shower, then put on the clothes I have hanging there. Christmas, look at that. A real monkey suit and brother silk underwear. Yes, put it all on. Don't leave off a thing. Everything will fit you, I'm sure. Hey, this is almost like a dream. I never thought I'd be decked out in a monkey suit like this until I was laid out for me home funeral. A monkey suit for his funeral. He doesn't know how right he is, does he, Charles? And Guthrie, if he only knew what plans were unfolding, he'd wait impatiently for the tramp to complete his change. It's very important that it be complete, that he resemble you closely. Will he? Did you figure it right? Well, you'll know in a moment. The door opens and you clench your fist. Oh, how's this? I wouldn't have believed it. Not bad, huh? Perfect. Perfect. Hey, how's about a slug of that stuff you promised me? Oh yes, yes, certainly, certainly the scotch. Here, I'll pour you a glass. Here. You know, I did just like you said. I didn't have a drink all day. Hey, that looks like good stuff. Don't see much of that anymore. Here, try this. Yeah, yeah, thanks. Hey, that hits the spot. You know, you know, I think I'm gonna like this kind of life. Here, have another. Help yourself to the bottle. No, fallen. Well, thanks. Hey, when, when do we get the payoff in this joke? Oh, any minute now. By the way, what's your name? Baker, Henry Baker. Baker, Baker. That one tastes just like another. Hey, you know, this is the life. Funny thing, I almost didn't come up here. No, why not? Oh, I don't know. Seems sort of fishy. Money guy like you picking me up to do a job for real letters. I figured there must be some catch to it somewhere. But all I gotta say now is that... Hey, hey, what's up? What's the big idea? Look, what's, what's the gun for? You, you ain't gonna... Hey, mister, cut it out. No, don't, don't shoot. That's it, Baker. End of joke. Okay, Charles Finch. That's the first step. Or should I call you Henry Baker, who answers the description of Charles Finch lying dead on the floor, his face disfigured just enough. Now it's a simple matter to take out his false teeth, exchange them with yours, put on the clothes of the tramp, and then quickly sprinkle kerosene over the body, the room, and set a match to it. In five minutes, the fire is spread to the drapes, the furniture, and now it's time to get out fast. Not too fast, Charles. No one in sight. But don't hurry. Now at the corner, pause, look around. Not a soul in sight. You're clear, Charles Finch. Oh, pardon me, Henry Baker. Charles Finch lies dead in his home, doesn't he? The flames licking away any telltale identification and completing your job. And you're on your way to pay a debt. But take it slowly, Charles. Tomorrow, Thursday, will be Guthrie Chauffeur's day off. He'll drive home tomorrow night by himself, and you'll be waiting beside the garage. Until then, you take a room in a cheap hotel. You're Henry Baker, hobo now. But next day, you stop in and see about the ticket you ordered for Mexico. It'll be ready Friday afternoon, the day after you got Guthrie. Just right. Perfect. Everything's all set. All you have to do is wait for the night. And how would Henry Baker do that? Why, sit in the park, of course. Hiya, brother. Got a match? Yeah, sure. Here you are. How's it going? Okay. Same as usual, I guess. Ain't it the truth? It's getting tough to be on the street these days. Well, I like it's not a guy who'll just come up and offer you a job right on the street. Say, that's your paper there? Yeah. Mind if I take a look? Oh, go ahead. Thanks. Wealthy clubman murdered. Hmm. Say, is that in this town? Yeah. Jim, somebody's always bumping somebody else off. Yeah, it seems so. And this guy was burnt up. Couldn't hardly identify him, it says here. Except his dentist identified his false teeth. I read it. Yeah, probably some dame. Sounds like a dame. Playing with fire. Hey, what am I laughing about? Only means trouble to me. Trouble? Sure, them dumb cops. When they can't find the right guy in one of them things, they come down here and run us all in. You mean they arrest us bums? Sure. Just a routine roundup. You know, like they're always doing. Keep us there a couple of days just so they can tell the newspapers they got some suspects. Well, I hope they get that guy real quick. Otherwise, me and you better hit the road for a while. Yeah, I'm not worried. That's just what I plan to do, hit the road. But I got a couple of things to attend to first. Yeah, just a couple. Yes, Charles, another 24 hours and you'll be on your way to Mexico. Free and revenge. But now it's time to get started. At 11, you're waiting in the shadows by Guthrie's garage. He's always arrived home from the club about this time. Everything is perfect for the climax. Open your hands. What is this? Get back in the garage and you will find out. Okay, okay. All right, keep your hands up. If it's money you want, my wallet is in the... I'm not interested in your money. I don't understand. Turn around, you'll see what I mean. I still don't get it. Maybe if I stepped into this shaft of moonlight, I'd be dead. Finch. Yes, Guthrie. Are you surprised? But the papers, the papers said you were dead, murdered. Yes, I know. You thought I was dead and so did the police. It's just what I wanted them to think. Now when they find you, they'll never dream Charles Finch could have done it, will they? After all, a dead man can't kill, can he? Look, Finch, you don't know what you're doing. You can't do this. Can I? You told me that once before. Said I didn't have brains enough or guts enough. But now you see your mistake. I did have guts enough. I've always, already, I've killed a man. I did have brains enough because the police think that man was Charles Finch. So I'm free. I'll never be caught for this. Look, Finch, Finch, let's... Keep your hands up. Let's talk this over. Keep your hands up. All right. All right, I'll pay you anything. Give you the business. I've got enough to take me to Mexico to start over after I take care of you. Finch, give me a chance. For God's sake, I'll do anything you say. That's right. Get down on your knees. Crawl, Guthrie. Crawl. That's the way I've wanted to see you. I'll confess everything. Confess it all. Give you back everything. Do anything. I say, Finch, don't. Don't! Well, Charles, your revenge is complete. And back in your shabby hotel room, you sleep soundly. There's no qualm of conscience, no ache of remorse as you walk through the park next morning. You did what you had to do, and you're satisfied. All that needs to be done now is to go to the ticket office and get your passage to freedom. It's all so simple, isn't it? Hey, Bo. Hmm? Me? Yeah, you. Come on. Get going. Huh? What's the matter? Cops. Cops? Come on. Don't waste time. Come on. It's like I told you yesterday, a roundup. Only I didn't expect it so soon. Come on. Get moving. If we stroll out the other end of the park, they may miss us. They started back there and... Uh-oh. Okay, you two. Wait a minute. What's the matter, copper? I ain't done nothing. Never mind. Get over there and get in the wagon. You too, bum. But, officer, you have no right to... You said so. I said get over there and get in the wagon. But I've done nothing. I... Tell that to the show-up crowd. Come on. You're going in. Ah, this is something you hadn't counted on, isn't it, Charles? But then there's nothing to worry about, is there? They can't possibly connect the hobo Henry Baker with the murders. And your friendly other hobo told you they'd only keep you a couple of days. That means only that your trip will have to be delayed a little. But what difference does that make as long as you get away in the end? You're fingerprinted and photographed and stood up in the line under the lights. But you're not worried. Not really. Step forward when I call your name. Alonzo Allen. Alonzo Allen, alias Allen James, vagrant, 37, 5'10", 132, dark complexion, brown eyes, brown hair, picked up on suspicion, re-arrest for vacancy. All right, step back. Henry Baker. Yes? Yes, I'm Henry Baker. Henry Baker, vagrant, 54, 5'8", 170, gray hair, blue eyes, picked up on suspicion. No record. Something is wrong. You sense it, don't you, Charles? Think. As the silence lengthens, you stand there straining. The perspiration pops out on your forehead. You listen intently, waiting for that step back. Your eyes strain into the blackness out there, but you can't make anything out. Not even those faces staring up at you. What's wrong? How could anything be wrong? Henry Baker, step down. No, no, not that way, out here. We want to ask you some questions. What did you say your name was, Henry Baker? What other names have you used? Sure of that? Of course I'm sure. My name's Henry Baker. Okay. Now, take a look at those. What? They're just fingerprints? Yes, your fingerprints, the ones we made a few minutes ago. Well? Take a good look. Notice the little whorls there. Very distinctive ones, see? Yes. Okay, now take a look at these. Notice anything different? No. Neither do I. They're the same fingerprints. They're yours, and it doesn't take an expert to see it. So what? So nothing. Only this second set of prints we got off of a liquor glass in the burned house of a guy who was murdered a couple of days ago. A guy by the name of Charles Finch. That name familiar to you? I never heard of him. Okay, that's your story. But we're booking you. Booking you for murder. But that's not all of tonight's story. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's tale. Meantime, here are two tips for making today's rationed gasoline go farther. Tip number one is from Uncle Sam. It's carpooling, and it's saving gasoline for millions of motorists. Take the case of four men driving to work, each in his own car. By riding together, three of the men can leave their cars at home. Gasoline, tires, and wear and tear are saved on three cars. Yes, carpooling really works. And now tip number two. This one is from thousands of Western motorists who for years have kept track of their gasoline mileage and found they do go farther with signal gasoline. Do I hear you saying, but today's gasolines aren't what they used to be. True, certain ingredients which gave gasoline their... But there's the important points. Today, as always, signal is producing the finest quality gasoline that can be made. And signal still places the emphasis on mileage. If you haven't tried signal in your car, it's high time you discover that all of today's gasolines are not the same. Select your next ration coupons in the famous longer mileage gasoline. Signal go farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. Yes, Charles Finch. You forgot about the fingerprints. You made the mistake of pouring the tramp a glass of liquor. The glass was found beside the body. Of course, later they found your prints all over what was left of the home. And so they booked you for murder. But then, not exactly you, Charles Finch. They booked Henry Baker for the murder. They convicted Henry Baker. They sent him to the execution chamber. And the reporters wondered why. Just before the switch was thrown, you threw back your head and laughed. Laughed long and loudly until suddenly you could laugh no more. They didn't see the humor in the situation. You were the only one who saw that. Because you were the only one who knew you were being executed for your own murder. The murder of Charles Finch. You couldn't tell them who you really were without exposing yourself to another murder. That of Malcolm Guthrie. So you died for murdering yourself. And when you laughed, it was a dead man laughing. Next Monday at nine o'clock, The Whistler will bring you another strange tale. The curious story of how murder opens a gate. The Whistler is broadcast for your entertainment by the marketers of Signal Gasoline and Motor Oil and Fine Quality Automotive Accessories and by your neighborhood signal dealer. This program, directed by George W. Allen, with tonight's story by Lewis Herman, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. Bob Anderson speaking and suggesting that you let every traffic signal remind you, you do go farther with Signal Gasoline. Yes, you do go farther with Signal. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
