Signal Gasoline. Let every traffic signal remind you, you do go farther with Signal Gasoline. 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, Blueprint for Suicide. I am the Whistler, and I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. The Pagliacci legend of the show must go on even though the heart is breaking, has been played out many times upon the stages of the world. But sometimes it doesn't come off just right. For instance, take the case of David Dane, the comedian. He's one of the most popular performers in the theater. And as he stands out in the glare of the footlights on the stage of the Regent Theater, you'd think he would be the most carefree man in the world. Everybody loves him. He's got everything, fame, fortune, a pretty wife. There she is, standing in the wings, watching him, smiling at his jokes. And anyone who saw you, Martha, greeting David as he comes off the stage, would be sure you meant what you say. How was it, Martha? Wonderful, darling. Well, you better take another curtain, Mr. Dane. Go ahead, David. Okay. Did you really like it tonight, Martha? Oh, you were terrific, darling. The audience loved every line. I think the routine's getting a little worn out. I called my gag writers together for tomorrow. We'll work up some new stuff. This routine seems all right to me. Ah, some new gags won't hurt. Yes, but... But what? How are you feeling, David? Me? Fine. Tired, are you? No feeling of strain? Of course not, Martha. If you don't stop worrying about me, I'll take you to the doctor. Anyone's bound to get a little upset sometime. Don't let the other night worry you. But it wasn't just the other night. Well, the time before that, too. Before that. Really, darling, we've been married four years. I'm entitled to some lapses from perfection in all that time. Of course, David. Of course, I'm sorry I said that I didn't. You're right, it's just that... Just what? Just that... Oh, it's nothing, David. We can't stand here all night. Let's get down to the dressing room. You wouldn't tell him, Martha. You know very well what you meant. And so does David. You think it's more effective just to leave it at that, for the time being anyway. You go down to the dressing room with David and keep talking, just anything, just so that you can delay him until everyone else has left the theatre. Then the two of you walk through the darkness backstage. There's nothing so somber and eerie as an empty, dark theatre, is there, David? Oh, it frightens me. So empty and dismal. Oh, I think I've got something. What? Oh, here, let me help you. After all this time, you should know the place as well as I do. I'm all right. Now I know my way. Oh, here's the table. What's on the table? It feels like a knife. Well, that gives us the murder weapon. Now with this setting, all we need is the corpse. David, don't say that. I'm sorry, darling. Here, give me the knife. Oh, hey, it's pretty sharp. It's not a prop. Let's have a look. Let's see. Oh, it's one of Marvello's knives for a super special knife throwing act. See? Martha, what is it? Oh, oh, it's nothing. Well, Martha, why did you scream? Oh, it's just my nerves. I told you this place was frightening me. Get out of here. Knock your nerves and you'll know it. I could see your eyes. You were terror stricken. You were afraid of me. No, it was just the way you were holding the match, David. It threw such a drain of light on your face. It wasn't just a match. There's a lot more to it, isn't there, Martha? A great deal more. It's what you started to say before when I finished my act. You wouldn't continue. I know what you were going to say. You're worried. Worried about me. You think there's something wrong with me, don't you? Quistler fans, I'm mighty happy to remind you tonight that in just 75 more hours, this Friday, your new gasoline A stamps will become worth six gallons each instead of four. That'll certainly help. But it's still far from enough. You'll still want to stretch those coupons. And more and more wise Western drivers who keep a careful record of gasoline mileage are finding there's no better coupon stretcher in all the West than Signal Go Farther Gasoline. Why does Signal Gasoline go farther? Well, for two good reasons. One, Signal Oil Company, in keeping with its 14-year tradition of quality, is marketing the very finest gasoline that wartime regulations permit. And two, the famous signal formula still places the emphasis on mileage. Now, aren't those two mighty good reasons for giving Signal Gasoline a try in your car? Just invest your next gas stamps at one of the friendly stations displaying signals, yellow and black circle signs. And then let your own speedometer prove you do go farther with Signal Gasoline. And now, back to the Whistler. Well, Martha, your little plan is working very well, isn't it? You started it only a few days ago, and already you have David believing that there's something wrong with him, that you're in terror of him. Now, Martha, what's the next step? You have that figured, too. It's just a little suggestion you've planned for the way home tonight. You get him to walk from the theater. The night air will relax him, you say. And soon you're coming to the river. We should do this more often. I've always enjoyed this walk home along here. We used to like to stop at the river and stand on the bridge and look down into the water. Nice. Martha, listen, it's just that I'm a little nervous. I haven't been myself lately. I'll be okay. Of course, darling, of course. You just forget about it. But Martha, I can't forget. You were frightened. You were afraid of me. Oh, darling, no, it was just circumstances. Circumstances, yes. Now, David, please. Look, we're on the bridge. Let's stop for a minute. All right. There. Isn't that beautiful, the moonlight on the water? Uh-huh. Darling, I ought to be getting home. I have some letters to write before I go to bed. Now, you're not going to stay up writing letters. You need rest. Besides, you've been dictating to your secretary in the morning. Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you, Grace resigned last week. You mean... Yes, I don't have a secretary at the moment. Oh, no, David, you didn't... What? You didn't frighten her, too, did you? Martha, for heaven's sake, I didn't... I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry. It's only... Never mind. Oh, I'm sorry, Grace left. She seemed like a very nice girl. Yeah. But I'll take your letters until you get another one. But not tonight. You're going to rest tonight. I guess I am sort of tired. Of course you are, darling. Just try to relax a minute, and then we'll walk on home. There. I always found that standing here looking down at the water relaxed me. The river looks so cool and inviting. Inviting? Yes. David, did you ever look down there and feel like... Oh, just like ending your troubles? I... don't know. I did once when I was lonely and discouraged. I guess a lot of people have felt that way standing here. That's why they call this... Suicide Bridge. Very neat, Martha. Just a suggestion, nothing more. But a suggestion that will stick in his mind in the days to come. You can tell that by the look in his eye. But you don't press it. You just walk on home, chattering about things. You're pretty satisfied with yourself, aren't you, Martha? You were even able to twist Grace's resignation the way you wanted it. You're happy to have her out of the way too, aren't you? His pretty secretary might have made your job more difficult. But now you're so contented when you arrive home that you take time off for a phone call. Hello, darling. Yes, I'm home. No, no, he can't hear. He's in the shower. I just wanted to hear your voice. Oh, yes, yes, tomorrow too. Same place. Let me hang up now. Oh, I love you too, darling. Goodbye. Isn't that romantic? You love him, don't you, Martha, and he loves you. But what about your husband, David? How many times have you vowed never to leave him and he never departs with you? And you know that he meant it. But you have your own ideas on the subject, a plan that's bound to work. It's dark now, David's asleep. But you're not. You can't sleep. You've got work to do. You've got a lot of work to do. What's wrong? What is it? Where's that light? Oh, here. Oh, David. David, why did you do it? Why? Martha, get hold of yourself. Stop it. I felt hands on my throat. I thought I was having a nightmare, but I couldn't breathe. I opened my eyes and there you were, leaning over me, trying to choke me. Martha, you don't know what you're saying. You were having a nightmare. No, I wasn't. It was you, David. No, Martha, it's impossible. I couldn't. It's so incredible. Oh, say, now dear, don't excite yourself, please. You couldn't help it. You didn't know what you were doing. You must have been asleep. It's fine. I'm not responsible for my actions. I tried to... Tonight I tried. One night I succeed. It's horrible, Martha. I can't go on like this. You just get some rest now, David. Tomorrow you'll be feeling fine, dear. Sure, I'll rest, and maybe tomorrow morning you'll be dead. I'm the one who should be dead. Stop that, David. Yes, I should be dead, but even dead, I'm worth nothing to you. If I committed suicide, you couldn't even collect my insurance. You're talking nonsense, David. You know I'm not interested in your money. Now, I'll leave you right now if you don't stop talking of suicide. You're much too good for me, Martha. Why did you ever marry me? You've stuck by me through so much trouble. Now, I'll never leave you. Never, Martha? Of course not. Let's stop talking about it. As long as we can't sleep, would you like for me to read to you? Anything you say. Well, then, here's some of Oscar Wilde's poetry. I started reading it last night. Would you like to hear it? Yes, it's okay with me. Nothing. You just lie back and try to get to sleep, David. Let's see. I guess I'll start with this. It doesn't seem familiar. He did not wear his scarlet coat for blood and wine are red. And blood and wine were on his hands when they found him with the dead. The poor dead woman whom he loved and murdered. What are you waiting for? Go ahead. I don't think this is very good. Here, I guess I'll try something else. No, I think it's excellent. Go ahead, Martha. It's awfully long. I've got time. Well, I'll skip to it. Oh, I'll start here. Yet each man kills the thing he loves. By each let this be heard. Martha? Shall we try a different poem, darling? No, no. Some kill their love when they are young and some when they are old. Some strangle with the hands of lust. That's quite a bedtime story, Martha. You picked it at random with great care. And it hit the mark. David lay tensely, listening, taking it in. Your schedule is working perfectly, Martha. But aren't you just a little worried? Doesn't it seem too easy, somehow too smooth? There can't be a slip-up, can there? No one knows, not even the man you will love. When you meet him the next afternoon, he says. You look radiant today, Martha. Why so happy? Oh, it's a beautiful day, darling. I'm meeting you. I really shouldn't be feeling so happy, though. I was up most of the night. Oh, again? Yes, it's David. Just isn't well. I can't imagine what's the matter with him. He acts so strangely. Martha, darling, you can't go on like this. Yes, I know, I know, darling. I almost asked him for a divorce last night, but I just couldn't. Oh, he's so ill and he needs me. It would break his heart. But, Martha, you've got to think of yourself. I know, but I just can't. I don't love him anymore, but I just can't hurt him now. Not now. Well, I admire you for it, Martha, but what about us? I don't know, darling. I don't know. Maybe later something will work out, but now I... Oh, I mustn't stay much longer. I have to get back to him. Why? I thought we were going to spend the afternoon in... I know, but he's having a conference with his writers and his secretary quit him last week, so he needs me to take notes. I can't disappoint him. Please understand, darling. Very clever, Martha. You're going home now, and you're thinking there will be many other pleasant afternoons with Jerry soon. You have no foreboding of disaster when you stand before the door of your house. You think it rather unusual the front door is locked. David must still be out. You take out your key, open the door. Yes, doctor. You hear David's voice. What? That's strange. Who could he be talking to? You stand by the door listening. I don't... Then you realize the truth. David's on the phone. No, but it's awfully hard to explain. And he's speaking to Dr. Stevens. Yes, Dr. Stevens, as soon as you can. As I told you, it's hard to explain over the phone. I know it's been a while since I was in. This is very urgent. Tomorrow morning we'll be fine. No, and one thing, Dr. Stevens, this probably won't come up, but I wouldn't want my wife to know about this. I don't want to worry her. Yes. Well, that'll be fine. Thank you, doctor. Goodbye. Well, Martha, that's not so good. It wouldn't do to have David go to the doctor and find out the truth that there's nothing at all wrong with him. It wouldn't do to have the doctor know about this either. You will have to think of some way. David? In here. Oh, where are the boys? I thought you were going to have a conference. They'll be here soon. Chuck called to say they got held up. What happened this time? I don't know. I think he told me I wasn't paying much attention. What you need is a rest. I know. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, let's pack up and go to the beach. I'd like to, but I can't. I've got to rehearse. Well, I can wait. Welcome back in plenty of time for rehearsing. Well, I'll have to go over to the theater early to see about props for the new routine. All right, then. I'll go along with you. I've got something to do there, too. Well, there's no reason for you to get up so early. But I must. Well, I think your costume was ripped. I meant to check it last night. I can take a look at it. If there's anything wrong, Mrs. Benson will fix it. But, David, I'm not... Well, then that settles. Here they are. David! Oh, hello, Chuck. Where was I? You didn't succeed that time, Martha. And you must stop David from seeing their doctor. You've got to act fast, very fast. But what can you do with all these people here? Except hammer away on the same old theme again. Of course I know songs aren't your usual style, David. But think of how this would go over. Now, here's the idea. You pretend you're a jockey, see? And as you sing about, oh, I love to ride the winter down the stretch, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee, and so on and so forth, while you go through all the motions. Why, boy, it'll be the funniest thing that's hit the theater in a long time. And you can do it. Not many comedians could, but you could. Well, how does it sound here? Sounds pretty good to me. Well, it's not bad at all. With a little polishing, it'll work into a terrific showpiece. What do you think, Martha? It sounds pretty good, but... But what? Don't you think it's a little strenuous for you? Strenuous? Oh, now, after all, Martha, he isn't really going to ride a horse over the hurdles, you know. What do you think, David? Well, I don't know. That is, I mean, I think maybe there are... It's easy to see that David will go places with your help, Martha. His writers are a little bewildered by your behavior, but you don't explain. The conference continues. You do your best to slow things up. You disagree. You suggest changes. Until everyone's worn out. But still, you won't stop. Because you've decided on a plan, and you're waiting, waiting and hoping. Luck is with you, Martha. The phone rings. You hurry over and answer it. You carry on a conversation. No one can hear what you're saying. You just tell the man that David's busy now, can't be disturbed. But you go on talking even after he hangs up. Finally, you hang up, David asks. No wonder, Martha. Just the wrong number. It was a long, wrong number. Well, he was hard to convince. You feel happy now, Martha. Everything's running just right again. Now you can't wait until they leave. You want to be alone with David. So you rush things. Finally decide the new routine is just right for David. Perfect, in fact. And they leave. You turn to David. I think it's one of the best routines I've ever had. Would you like to take a nap now? A nap? I feel better than I have in a long time. You ought to rest before tonight's show. Madam, I beg to differ. In fact, my idea is that we go out and celebrate. There's a cocktail party at the Bennett's. How about surprising them and showing up? What, you'll tie yourself out? You have a show to do tonight. You know what? I'm going to try out that new routine. I'll prove to you what a great comedian you married. Come on, we'll go right to the theater from the party. No, no, David. I wanted to talk to you. A party? Come on, a party is just what I need right now. All right, David. Just as you say. You gave in rather quickly, Martha. You decided a cocktail party might be just what you needed, too. Not that your spirits need any lift. It's just that the party atmosphere suddenly appealed to you as the very place to strike that final blow. Well, David and Martha, I must say I feel honored having you here. You two have been behaving like hermits lately. David's been working so hard. I was thinking of you every minute, Pearl. Where's Roy? I haven't had a talk with him in months. In the kitchen getting more ice. I'll go and help him. I'm invaluable at that. I doubt if you even know what ice looks like. You put so little in your glass. That's my unselfish spirit. I don't want to take the other fellow's share. Excuse me. David's feeling good. You encourage him, bring him more drinks, laugh and chatter. It's a very gay party. But it's getting late. You still have work to do. That empty balcony will serve very well. You and David can go out there. Oh, it feels good to get out in the air. It's beginning to get a little busy. The air does feel good. I hate to leave here, though. I'm having such a swell time. We'll have to go in a few minutes or I'll be late. Are you really going to do the new routine tonight? Sure, it'll knock them over. Tonight I'll show that audience the true David Danin. By tomorrow night I'll have that act so polished up the shine will hurt their eyes. We'll have to rest up tomorrow. Oh, yeah, sure. You can sleep all morning. Yeah, I mean, no, I have to go out. You can sleep all morning, David. No, I can't. Yes, you can, David. You don't have to see Dr. Stevens tomorrow. Martha, what are you saying? I know about Dr. Stevens. But how could you? You weren't there. It was Dr. Stevens who called during the writer's conference this afternoon. But he promised me. I know, David, I know. He promised not to tell me. But he had to call. He had to talk to me. I don't understand. He promised me. He didn't know what to tell you. Well, if it was just to break the appointment, I don't see why he had to make such a ceremony out of it. Oh, I wish it were that, dear, but it wasn't. You see, he didn't know what to tell you after he examined you. How could he until the examination was over? After all, if I wanted my doctor to be psychic, I'd go to some sort of spiritualistic medium. No, no, David, please, darling, you don't understand. He realized why you wanted to see him, and after all, he knows you. But he didn't see any point in examining you, but he was willing to go through the motions. He wanted to talk to me about what, what to tell you. I mean, how much to tell you. Oh, David, I'm telling this very badly. On the contrary, you're making it very clear. No, I'm not. It's just that I can't. It's just that there's nothing any doctor can do but break it to me gently. That's it, isn't it? That's what it amounts to. Hey, David, you're going to be late for the show. Yes, by all means. I mustn't be late for the show. Martha's timing was perfect as usual. She doesn't have much more left to do. You trust her, David, and she trusts you, trusts you to do the right thing. No pity moves her as you falter out onto the stage, as you stand before the audience, laughter greets you. The audience knows David Dane always puts on a good show as they're waiting, but you just stand there. Oh, Martha's there. Oh, I'm getting started. In a moment, they're calling to you, David, and you start your routine falteringly. Within a minute, they're laughing. But this time, it's not with you, David, but at you. The audience you usually hold in the palm of your hand has become a fearful thing, and all of Martha's insinuations come up and overwhelm you suddenly. You break, you can't go on, but you try, even though you know this is the end of David Dane's comic. Martha's leaving the theater now, even though David's still on stage. Yes, Martha, those who see you leave think you can't bear the sight of David's failure, but that's not exactly the reason. You don't want to wait for David. You'd rather drive off in the car and leave David to walk home alone, walk home alone, and pass by the clear, inviting waters under Suicide Bridge. You go back to the house and wait. The phone call probably won't come for hours. You keep watching the clock, 11.30, midnight. You don't want to be far from the phone. You curl up on the big chair in front of the make-believe fireplace. You're almost wishing this for all make-believe, too. Almost. The phone still doesn't ring. Your eyes won't stay open. It's almost one o'clock. You're fast asleep, Martha. Martha? Martha? Martha? You don't hear him, Martha. All these days and nights have made you very tired, so tired that you sleep soundly now. And David doesn't see you hidden in that big chair facing the fireplace. It looks as if your plan didn't succeed, Martha, not the water. No, not for David, the river. There's another way, a surer way. No one can see him and stop him. You'd better wake up, Martha. Can't you hear that sound? It's gas. Gas to take David's life. Gas, Martha. You were right to trust David. He'll always do the honorable thing. He won't burden you with himself anymore, Martha. But it's getting late. You'd better wake up now, or you won't ever know how your plan succeeded. David. David. Gas. Gas. Oh, David. You're awake now, Martha. But you're weak. You're trying hard to move from the chair. You're weak, Martha. Too weak. You can barely stand up. Slowly and painfully you try to reach the kitchen. Then you'll turn off the gas. Then everything will be all right. David. No. David. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, because car batteries are still on the list of critical shortages, your signal gasoline dealer wants to pass along these tips on summer care that will help your battery last longer and give better performance. First of all, batteries need a drink, often in summer, at least every two weeks, to replace water that evaporates. But water isn't the only attention your battery needs. Terminals corrode and cut down the battery's efficiency. If the corrosion isn't stopped, it can spread and ruin the battery cables. Unfortunately, your signal dealer is a trained expert at battery care. He not only has complete equipment for battery testing, cleaning, and recharging, but he also has replacement cables in case yours is too badly corroded. Yes, and if need be, he can supply you with a premium quality, fully guaranteed signal battery. Although because of the wartime shortage, he'd rather make your present battery last. So get in the habit of stopping in at one of the friendly stations displaying signals, yellow and black circle sign, at least every two weeks for a battery checkup. It's part of your signal dealer's complete service to help your car run better, look better, and last longer. And now, back to the Whistler. Well, Martha, you figured it perfectly up to a point. You hadn't figured on David choosing that way. And when you woke up to find the apartment filled with gas, you tried desperately to reach safety. But you couldn't make it, could you? Too bad, Martha. And the real tragedy that for you was you figured it all wrong. You needn't have played such a dangerous game at all. If only you could have known the things that David put into the suicide note he wrote just before he turned on the gas. They found it beside your two bodies next day. It read, Dearest Grace, please forgive me for this. I couldn't help myself. You were right when you resigned as my secretary. Our love was doing terrible things to us both. It made me subconsciously hate Martha enough to try to kill her in my sleep. I should have left her, but I couldn't. She was so tender in understanding, and she kept telling me how she'd never leave me. I couldn't tell her that I really loved you. Goodbye, Grace, David. Next Monday at nine o'clock, the Whistler will bring you another strange tale. 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 Geraldine Merkin, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is Marvin Miller speaking and suggesting that you let every traffic signal remind you that you do go farther with signal gasoline. Yes, you do go farther with signal. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
