Signal Gasoline. Signal, the new gasoline you can prove is superior. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by the Whistler. Tonight, the man who died twice. 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. It wasn't until a year or more after his second death that the public learned the facts in the case of Stash Wilk and made him famous posthumously as the man who died twice. That was an interesting story in itself, but it was really only a prologue to a bigger story, one which the public never knew in full. Four people were involved. Stash, his brother John, his lawyer Ben Maddow, and his girl Edie Shelby. But the real central character in the story was an oil drum containing $400,000 in currency buried near a lonely highway. Yes, Stash Wilk, if you hadn't been stupid, if you hadn't killed that bank guard, you might have made it. But there's no use crying over spilt milk, is there? You're in the state penitentiary now, in the death cell, 48 hours from the gas chamber. And all you can think of is the $400,000 buried in the oil drum near the highway, safe. Only you know where it is, Stash. Maybe that's why Ben Maddow, your lawyer, is trying so desperately to get you a reprieve. But listen to reason, Stash. I tell you, we saw the governor. They all turned us down. It must be some other way. Where's Edie? I gotta see her. She's coming with John. Hey, my brother, what's he doing here? Trying to help. You mean he's money hungry too, like the rest of you? Please, Stash, don't you see? You've got to tell us where that dough is so we can put it to work for you. Are you low down? Let me just go, you crazy idiot. That guy's coming. Nobody can just smell of that dough till I'm out, see? Yeah, yeah, Stash. Yeah. Let me go. Yeah. Thanks. Straighten your tie. They're coming. Miss Shelby and your brother to see you, Wilk. Ten minutes. Stash! Oh, Edie. I missed you, baby. Hope you miss me too. I have, Stash. I have. It's getting so... I figure everyone's got his eye on the dough. Even you. Oh, please. Okay. What's on your mind, Johnny? I abandoned you. Ask him about... I just told Ben exactly how I feel about the dough, Johnny. Just said there won't be no mistakes. You see, there's one thing worse than walking to that little green room tomorrow. That's walking there knowing someone else is making free with that 400 grand. In other words, John, he doesn't trust us. You're right. Once I'm out, it's a different story, of course. Of course. Well, that leaves us just one alternative. What's that? It's a long shot, Stash, but that's about the only kind we have left. It'll take money. Now or later? I think you'll be satisfied with later. Who? The doctor. Are you kidding? What good can a doctor do me? Let him talk, Stash. It's this way, Stash. With the right injections, a man who's been gassed to death can be brought back to life. Brought back? What are you giving me? What kind of a double cross is this? Are you all crazy or something? Relax before you have the guard here. I'm telling you a plain fact. A man who's been gassed and pronounced dead can be revived providing you get him to the right doctor fast enough. Now... Cigarette, anyone? Yeah, I'll have one. Thanks. A little less noise now, huh? Yeah. Well, Stash, you ready to listen to details? Don't have much choice, do I? Okay, Johnny, I'm listening. But get this straight. I free you. I don't do no talking about the 400 grand till I'm out of this pen. And you can figure how much talking I'll do if I come out dead. Yes, Stash, it's enough to make a man think, isn't it? With death staring him in the face. The guards at the prison notice the change right away. And the report goes to the warden that with a little more than a day of life left you, you've changed from a surly scowling brood into a model prisoner. Meanwhile, Ben Maddow and your brother John are making preparations. And finally, on the morning of the execution... What time is it, John? Almost five. That doctor was going to... Don't worry, I told you. He's got the schedule. You're sure of him? Positive. He's done it before. We have exactly an hour. He goes into the gas chamber at six sharp. Where's that laundering man? Outside. Well, get him. Hey, come here a minute, will you? Yeah. You got everything straight? Yeah, I think so, Mr. Maddow. He goes into the chamber at six. Ought to be out at six ten. They'll take the body direct to the prison crematory. You meet the wagon at the southeast at exactly six thirteen. You exchange that body in the sack in your truck for Stash. Yeah, yeah, I know. Now, there can't be any slip-ups. The delay of a minute might make the difference between life and death. It's got to be split second timing. You understand? Yeah. All right, get out and check your truck. And don't let the prison guard suspect this is anything but your usual laundry pickup. Right, boss. I'll be back at six twenty sharp with the body. Wanderman. Good, I'll give you a hand. Right through here. Okay. Right here. On the table? Yeah. Here's your money. Thanks. Remember what I told you. Keep your mouth shut. Don't worry. All right, doctor. Let's go. Methadone blue. Here it is. Needle. Right. There, oxygen on. It's on, doctor. Heart. Not yet. More methadone. Heart. I...I don't know yet. I can hardly tell. Give me that stethoscope. Here you are. Let's see. Wait a minute. Hmm. Give him more oxygen. He's starting to breathe, doctor. How's his heart? Easy, easy. Now down on the oxygen a little. Steady, steady. He's really breathing. All right. We'll keep the oxygen on a little longer. Doctor, is he... Yeah, he's out of the woods. He'll live? He has an excellent chance. Cover him with a couple of blankets. How long before he'll wake? There's no way of telling yet. The main thing now is that he's alive. If his constitution is as strong as I think it is, he'll come through. Ping. Remember that word? Ping. That's what cars used to do going up hills and on the getaway before the days of new signal. The new gasoline you can prove is superior. But ping is a lost word now, on its way clear out of the motoring vocabulary. For with new signal gasoline, tired old motors purr with pleasure, even when they're working hard. Ah, but higher anti-knock isn't the only improvement you'll notice when you try Signal's new super fuel. No, indeed. In addition, you'll enjoy quicker starting the moment you touch the button, faster pickup that you can really feel. And because you'll be shifting less, you'll get more of those pleasurable high gear miles actually go farther than ever with new signal. Because all these advantages are things you can see, feel, hear right in your own car, we call new signal the gasoline you can prove is superior. Why not make your next gas stop? A stop at one of the friendly stations displaying signals, familiar yellow and black circle sign. Fill up with new signal gasoline and see for yourself the surprising performance there's still left in your car. Now, back to the Whistler. Four hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money, isn't it, Stash? It brought you back from the dead. Paid for the split second timing, the calculated accuracy, the medical exactness that turned a one-way journey into a round trip. You remember nothing from the time the paralyzing fumes surrounded you as you sat strapped in the gas chamber. Nothing except a feeling of strangulation, the sudden stabbing of a million knives at your chest, and then darkness, a limitless ocean of darkness in which you lost all sense of time and space and being. Then all of a sudden there's reality again. There's light coming in windows without bars on them, and Edie's here beside you. I can't believe it, Stash. Why not? I'm here, ain't I? I was scared. You were scared? Help me up, baby. Try out these pins of mine. Yeah. There. I think you can walk. Walk? Maybe I can fly. Watch. Oh, take it easy. I'm okay. Boys, he's walking. Hey, well, look at that. Not bad for a corpse, huh? But it's great, Stash. How you fellas? When are we getting out of here? We're not getting out of here until we make sure there won't be a slip-up. What do you mean? We're going to find you a new face. A plastic surgeon, Stash. Now, wait a minute. It's the only way. Your picture's been in every paper in the country. You'll be spotted in two minutes if you left this house. Will it be much of a job? $30,000 worth. He must be good. He is. Okay, pay him. Let's get it over with. He wants it in advance. Well, lay it out. What's the matter? Ain't my credit good for 30 grand? Take it easy. We worked hard to get you this far, and we want to finish it, but we're broke. What are you giving me? What do you want? An itemized statement of how much it cost to buy your skin? All right, here it is. $5,000 each for the two attendants, $1,000 for the other stiff, $1,500 for... You'll get it back with interest, you know that? Sure. We trust you, Stash. Then what are you after? It isn't what we're after. It's what we've got to have. That $400,000, or enough of it to buy the plastic surgeon and then get us all out of here. But it ain't safe for me to go after it. You said so yourself. That's right, I did, but... What about one of us? Or don't you trust us yet? Oh, I don't know. Let me think. And you don't trust them, do you, Stash? Because you know there's no honor among thieves. Still, you're not quite yourself today, are you? There's a new feeling inside you. The dictionary calls it gratitude. You don't recognize it, but it makes you feel a little like a heel doubting these people after they saved your life. But perhaps you can squirm out of it gracefully. Perhaps your brother... Johnny, how about you? Can't you raise 30 grand for me? Right now, I couldn't raise yeasts. I'm already out on a limb for part of the expenses. There's nothing we can do, Stash. We've gone through every cent we have. Ah, you said that. What about raising it? I tell you, my credit's good. It won't work. Who is this doc? Martin. He's a friend of mine. Why won't he work in the cuff? He wouldn't believe me when I told him about the money you buried. Wouldn't believe you? Why not? I had nothing to show him. Why should he? You still don't trust us, do you, Stash? Wait a minute. You think you could convince this doc if I drew you a map? Now you're talking? Eh, I ain't finished. There's strings on this. Nobody does any digging till I'm ready to go with you after the operation. But what about paying the doctor? I think I can sell him on it if I've got a map. He's afraid Stash will walk out on him. He's taken quite a chance, you know. It's all right with me, Stash. What about you, Ben? Nobody goes till I go with you, right? Okay. All right. Give me a paper and pencil. Then right at this point on the left side of the highway is the Auto Club Road sign. At 20 yards from there, right on the line with this rock, you'll find an oil drum buried. See, right there. You can't miss it. Thanks, Stash. You better run out and rattle up that doc. I want to get Ben. Get your hands up, Stash. Over against the wall. You too, John. Edie, you're not going to let him do... Oh, so that's how it is, huh? That's how it is, Stash. I'll kill you, you little devil crosser. Get back to the wall. There. That's better. You always were hot-headed, Stash. She'll double-cross you too, the little... I don't think so. He wouldn't understand. Edie and I were patient, Stash. We knew what we were waiting for. And now that we've got it, there's no need to tolerate you or your brother any longer. Ben, listen. You got a hundred grand coming to you. Knock me and Johnny off, you just wind up with a murder rap. And 300,000 more. Don't forget that. Yeah, a lot of good that'll do you when you walk in the last mile. That's right, ain't it, Johnny? Not exactly. No crime in killing a man who's already been executed. No, Johnny. Not you too. Look, Matto, you're the boss now. I'm only suggesting you haven't much to gain by rubbing me out. Ben, he's right. We don't want to spend the future ducking the cops. That's no worse than ducking Johnny Wilk. For what? I'm not sure. All I want is my hundred grand, and you'll never see me again. Ben, it's the best way for us. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is smarter. Step out of the way, John. Ben, don't. Ben, for heaven's sake! Ha ha ha! So Stash Wilk died, twice. Reducing membership in the corporation to three. Ben Matto, John Wilk, and Edie Shelby. Each with one eye on the 400,000, and the other on their partners. They're all jittery that night on the way to the spot Stash marked on the map. What are you trying to do, Edie? Kill us all? Don't jump at me. I saw the car. Well, don't drive so fast. You want to get there, don't you? Exactly. I want to get there. I can wait until tomorrow if I have to. Look, look, look. Why don't we just take it easy, huh? We can stop at a roadside hotel. I think it's crazy. You're outvoted. May as well slow down. All right, all right. That better? You know, it's funny, Ben. Someday you'll probably fall and break your neck in a bathtub. There's a place ahead. Pull in there and I'll see if they have any rooms. Be right back. He knows better than to leave it. Leave what? Oh, don't give me those sheep eyes, Edie. You had your eyes on his inside coat pocket ever since we left. And don't tell me you're in love with the old goat neither. You're pretty sure of yourself. I know women. You know me? Yeah. That's nice. Could be a lot nicer with old graybeard out of the way. Any ideas? A few. For example? Mighty nice layout here. All these second story rooms with balconies. I don't get it. Just watch me. That's all I've been doing since we met. Sort of like it, Johnny. Watching you. Wait a minute. Here he comes. And watch the dope, Ben. Just talk to the maid or D. We can get dinner in rooms. You reserve the rooms? Not yet. I wanted to check with you first. That's great with me. Come on, Edie. I was thinking we could pick up a couple of those view rooms on the second floor. With the balconies? Just what I had in mind. Look at that sky, will you? What about it? Nothing. Except it is going to be a beautiful night. Isn't it? Shall I serve some more wine? You, John? No, no, no. Mr. Maddow and I'll have some more. Yes, ma'am. Now you're talking to me, V. There you are. Will that be all? Yeah, that's all. Hey, wait. Just leave the bottle, huh? Yes, sir. If you want anything else brought up, just ring me. How's about another glass, everybody? We got lots to celebrate tonight. Edie will keep you company. I'm going to stretch my legs. Okay, Johnny. Just careful, Ben. You're spilling. It's a pretty elegant suite. Venetian blinds. French windows. Pretty fancy, huh? Yeah. Private balcony. Yeah. Nice and private. Well, I'll see you two later. Sure you won't have another drink. No, no, no, thanks. Oh, by the way, Edie, you were right about it being a beautiful night. You two really ought to have a look outside. I don't know why, but that guy gives me the woolly, Edie. I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have listened to you about... Oh, forget it, Ben. Tonight we celebrate, remember? Sure, sure. That's right. Why do you say we walk out on the balcony, huh? I'm comfortable here. I'm just... Oh. Knock my glass over. It's all right, though. I emptied it first. Come on, Ben. A little fresh air will do us both good. Here, I'll take your arm. Oh, no, no, no. I feel fine. It's pretty out here, isn't it? You're pretty, Edie. You and me, we're gonna have a great time, aren't we, huh? Why not? We'll have 300,000 bucks to keep us warm, Edie. Anywhere we want to go, we go there. Anything we want to do, we do it, huh? I've been waiting a long time for a setup like this. So have I. Here. Oh, Ben, look. Right in our backyard, a deer. A deer? Oh, that's nice. Oh, look at him, Ben. He's cute. Huh? I don't see anything. Here, here, get where I'm standing. Right by the rail. Huh? I still don't see anything. He's down under our balcony. You'll have to lean over to see him. He sure is non-melancholic, little pink one. You're seeing things, Edie. Maybe we'd better go. Hey, hey, gosh, what are you? Ah! Too bad, Ben. You turned your back once too often. Let your guard drop for one fatal instant. Forgot for a second that you were dealing with big leaguers, members of the 400 Grand Association. Of course, John and Edie testified the next morning before the coroner's jury. And of course, the verdict was... The deceased Benjamin Matto met his death from an accidental fall while under the influence of alcohol. And of course, the other guests of the hotel understood when Ben's fiancée and his best friend left immediately after the inquest. Of course. After all, Edie, you couldn't bear to remain around the scene, could you? Not with Stash's 400,000 buried 50 miles away. We're gonna have to be back there tomorrow. Huh? Why? We're not acting like a couple of grief-stricken friends. Somebody's gotta claim the body. Yeah, yeah, maybe you got something. How much farther? About a mile. Oh, we'll be there soon. Not at the rate you're driving. Hmm, nice, isn't it? Two of us alone. Yeah. There's a lot ahead of us with that 400 grand. There's a lot behind us, too. We can forget it. You think so? It'll be easy with you. You're a pretty interesting character, John Wilkins. Yeah? Yeah. You've been in the rackets, same as the rest of us, but you've never gotten your fingers dirty. How come? I used my head, I guess. For example, see this road? What about it? That's where we're going. I'm using my head. I don't get it. You will? Why, you're turning off the highway. This isn't the place. Johnny, what are you doing? Answer me, Johnny. There's nothing here at all. Stop, Johnny, you'll drive us over the edge. See what I mean about using my head, baby? Johnny, Johnny, why are you getting out? Release the brake. Johnny, you can't. You heard me, release the brake. All right. You know what he's doing, Edie. He's too smart to shoot you with that.3080s holding. The shoulder of the road slopes down for about 10 feet. Then the cliff. They'll find you in the wrecked automobile, and there'll be no telltale bullet holes. You're thinking fast. You've got one chance, haven't you? There, he's behind the car now. He's started rolling down the slope. That's it, into reverse quickly. Run him over. I got him. You're going to have to turn around. It's narrow, but you've got to make it, Edie. That's right. Now into reverse. You have to back close to that edge. You have to watch where you're going. Better take your eyes off John for a minute as he lies on the other side of the road. Johnny, no! Keep right on going, baby. Right on over! The Whistler will return with a strange ending of tonight's story in just a moment. Meantime, let's take a quick look inside the refineries where new signal gasoline is made. It looks like the movie version of a chemist's dream. For here are some of the most amazing devices ever known to science where the atoms in gasoline molecules are actually separated then put together in an entirely new way, creating an entirely new type super fuel. That's why new signal isn't just a pre-war quality gasoline, not just an improved old style gasoline, but a completely new post-war motor fuel. And that's also why new signal is packed with amazing new power and performance that's so immediately apparent you can feel it, see it, hear it. Whether you're driving a 1932 Ford or a 1942 Cadillac, you'll know new signal is the gasoline for your car the moment you step on the accelerator and feel that old motor get young again. That's why we urge you to let just one tank full of new signal gasoline talk for itself. Let its quicker starting, faster pickup, higher anti-knock and longer mileage demonstrate in your car why new signal is actually the new post-war gasoline you can prove is superior. And now, back to the Whistler. Music So the corporation has finally cut down to one. And you're it, aren't you, Johnny? It's been a hard struggle. Your chest is crushed, your right foot mangled. But there's something more important than that. You're just like Stash and Ben, money comes before anything else. It's the thought of the 400,000 in the oil drum that gives you the strength to half walk, half crawl that last mile to the roadside. Yes, there it is. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Here, right here. Yes, John, this is the spot you've lied and betrayed and killed to reach. You don't care whether you live or die now. All you want is the sight of those greenbacks, isn't it? You look for something to dig with, a stick or a sharp stone. There's nothing. So you dig with your fingers, claw at the dirt, forget the pain in your hands, every breath feeling as if you've inhaled a load of razor blade. But at last you reach it. The oil drum, just as Stash had said. The top comes off, isn't it? There. Now. Can't feel it. A lighter match. Now. What's this? Where's the... Empty. No, no, I'm wrong. It can't be. Here, a piece of paper. Just like Stash. Must be another map. The dollar bill. Map, it must be a map. Sure, he's written directions. Whoever's double-crossed me, keep this buck for your trouble. The rest of the 400 grand, I leave to the worm, Stash. Oh. Oh. Next Monday at 9 o'clock, the Whistler will bring you another strange tale. The curious story, Death Wears a White Robe. 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 Stanley Rubin, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is Marvin Miller speaking, suggesting that you try new signals. The new gasoline you can prove is superior. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
