The signal oil program, the Whistler. That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. 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. Yes, friends, it's time for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Rated by Independent Research, the most popular program on the West Coast. Remember, let every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline, you do go farther than ever. Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations in seven western states from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story, the thin line. It's a thin line that separates infatuation from hate, so thin and fragile that one can change into the other in a split second. Mark Naylor would agree now that the line is a thin one, if Mark were alive. But he didn't discover it until too late. That was the trouble with Mark. He always discovered things too late. When he discovered that marrying an old woman for her money doesn't lead to happiness, it was too late. When he discovered he was in love with Artis Mayo, her pretty companion, it was too late. Okay, it was too late, Mark. There's nothing you can do. Of all the places, people go for asthma. She has to pick this dried up, jerk water town in the desert. Well, I'm going to put my foot down, Artis. I said it's too late. She's taken a lease on this place for six months and she's going to stay here. But why did you agree in the first place? Well, did I know it was going to be like this? You really fell for the travel folders, didn't you dear? A romantic mining town, the essence of the old west. Yeah, that's a laugh. Why didn't you say something? Well, you're the head of the family, darling. I only work here. Sand, everywhere you look, sand. Sand in your eyes, in your ears, in your teeth. Oh, what a trap. Well, there's no use fretting about it. Emma won't leave. No, Emma won't leave. Her asthma, always day in, day out, her asthma. The climate's good for her. Ah, but you love her. Ah, but I don't. Don't needle me. I've had all I can take. I'm sorry. You're sorry. Well, there's one consolation she can't last forever. Neither can you. I'll bet she hits 90. Is that par for the course? With women like Emma, it is. I thought I was being smart when I married her. Well, you met me, darling. Doesn't that mean anything? I know it. That does mean a lot. Well? Well what? Well, what are you going to do about it? What can I do? Sometimes you disappoint me. Why? Oh, skip it. Oh, now look, Artie. Why do you keep complaining about it, Mark? That's all you've done for the past six months, and it won't do you any good. I'm open to suggestions. Well, it's time you started thinking for yourself. Maybe I'm not so bright. All I know is she wants to live here. And when I think of her bank account, I don't feel like arguing. Do you want me to draw you a diagram? Maybe you'd better. You'd better think about it for a while. I've got to go into town and get a prescription. Oh, I'll go with you. No. Why not? It doesn't look right. But I don't see why I... There's such a thing as being discreet. I'll go alone. Oh, great. The old brush. Don't be stupid. Now just relax and think. It'll be a new experience for you. Artists have given you something to think about, hasn't she, Mark? That's the way Artists is, always suggesting, never coming right out with a flat statement. And there's something about her that makes you listen. Maybe it's the way she handles those foreign-looking eyes. Maybe it's the way she walks, the graceful, capable way she does everything. Maybe she's just a little bit of a wimp. Maybe she's just a little bit of a wimp. Maybe she's just a little bit of a wimp. Maybe she's just a little bit of a wimp. Maybe it's just because she's Artists Mayo and she can twist you around a little finger. She is beautiful, isn't she? Maybe that's it. She's such a complete opposite of Emma, your wife. That you, Mark? Yeah, it's me. Where have you been? Not writing. Alone? Well, who would I be with? Oh, you've been writing a lot lately, Mark. What else can you do in this blasted country? Oh, why do you talk like that? You know, it upsets me. But my asthma... I thought this place was supposed to fix your asthma. We haven't been here long enough. You talk about me being unreasonable. You want me to stay here and rot just because you can't catch your breath once in a while. Oh, Mark, we've been over all this before. I'm going to stay until I've given the place a fair trial. Well, that could be years. You know what it's doing to me, don't you? Mark, I'd give in to you if I could, but I can't stand living along the coast. You know that. I wonder. You wonder what? I wonder if your asthma is the real reason we left California. There's no community property law in this state. Mark! Oh, you be so unfair. I'm ill. I am too. I'm sick of this place. And sick of me. No, I didn't say that. But you think it, don't you, Mark? Now what are you trying to do? Put words in my mouth? Mark, when we were married, I realized that it wasn't a normal thing to do. But you really seemed sincere when you told me that you weren't the type to be happy with a woman your own age. So I went through with it. But now everything's changed. You're disagreeable and unkind... Well, I'm irritable because of this filthy country. Look at this place. Nothing but sand and heat. And nights with no sound but that wind. I suffer because I go off the handle once in a while. There's more to it than that. Oh, now what? You said you were out riding alone this afternoon. You weren't telling me the truth, Mark. You were riding with Ardys. You've been riding with her quite often. You've fallen in love with her, haven't you? Now, in a way, I suppose it was my fault. I should have known better than to hire such an attractive girl as a companion. Look, I don't want to talk about it. You've got to talk about it. Our marriage was a bargain, Mark. You owe me something too, dear. In return for a promise of security. A promise that when I go, you'll have everything. I'm not kicking about our marriage, Jim. It's just living here that's driving me crazy. I doubt it. You were conscious of her why we were living in California. I've been hoping that it was one of those affairs that would die out. But it hasn't. And I've lost your companionship. You've made me feel miserable and undignified. You've made me feel as though I don't want to go on living. Now, don't go into hysterics. How can I help you? Just take it easy. If it'll make you any happier, I'll stop riding with Ardys. It's going to take more than that, Mark. There's only one way to straighten out this situation. I'm going to let Ardys go. You can't do that. It's the only way to settle it. And nothing is going to change my mind. I think what you're doing, Ardys is... Oh, what's the matter? Don't you trust me? Can't you take my word? No, Mark. I don't trust you. I'm doing this for my own peace of mind. Well, I won't hold still for it, Emmett. It isn't fair to Ardys. Oh, why can't you be sensible? Why can't you... It's no use, Mark. I'm letting Ardys go. And if you don't like it, you can go too. All right. All right, I will. Mark, you don't mean this. I'm in love with Ardys. I may as well admit it. If she goes, I go. Mark, how can you be so cruel? How can you be such a stubborn old fool? No! Oh, get out! I don't want you near me anymore. Oh, get out! Well, Mark, that does it. It's over now. The two years of your life you've gambled are wasted. Emma and her fortune are out of the picture, aren't they? You keep telling yourself it's just as well that it was a mistake from the start, that you were a fool to think you'd get something for nothing. You can forget about your conversation with Ardys this morning. There's no need for that now. At least you're free. There'll be an efficient Nevada divorce, then you and Ardys can forget it. Yes, Mark, you're still on the same side of that thin line, aren't you? There's nothing in the world now, except Ardys. That's all she said? Yeah. Get out, period. Well, what are you going to do? Get out? What do you think? That seems rather foolish. You think she'll give you a divorce? Of course, why not? You don't know her. Listen, Mark, she'll hang around your neck until the day she dies. Wait a minute, Ardys. Don't argue with me, Mark. I know her like a book. Look, if you're talking about the money, I don't care. Well, I do. You know, Mark, Emma's a very unhappy woman. She suffers a lot, and, well, in a way, it would be a blessing if... Well, if... If what? There is a way, Mark. Stop talking in riddles. Now, I tell you, she's through with me. As a matter of fact, I'm glad of it. She can take her pot of gold and find herself another husband. She will if you're stupid enough to let her. If you're suggesting I go back to her, you're just wasting your time. I'm not suggesting you go back to her. Huh? I said there's a way, Mark. She's old, infern, and you're her beneficiary. Artis, you mean... Why, no, I couldn't, Artis. Oh, shut up. But listen, oh, murder's one thing. Oh, you listen. Now, you can take your choice. Emma can have a nice, respectable automobile accident on her way to town. Or I leave tonight, alone. You can't be serious. I was never more serious in my life. We never get away with it. There'll be questions, a thousand of them. The whole town knows about you and me. And what? We'll throw up in their teeth. So we love each other. So Emma gets despondent and commits suicide. People don't commit suicide by running automobiles into ditches. Oh, you don't know what you're talking about. There was one last year and I know the exact place. All right. What is it, Mark? Is it Emma or me? Well, Artis, I... Give me time to think. There's no time to think. But killing her, I... All right. Goodbye, Mark. Wait a minute, Artis. I... Well? All right. Good. When? Tonight. With the prologue of tonight's story, The Thin Line, the Signal Oil Company is bringing you another strange story. By The Whistler. But now what's the latest information about that new car you've been waiting for? Well, due to various reconversion problems, instead of the 500,000 new cars manufacturers had expected to produce by now, only 75,000 were actually made. You know what that means. That old car will no doubt be with us much longer than we counted on. It's going to take much better care than cars ever needed before if parts that have already gone so far must stand up under still more mileage. Just lubrication won't be enough. It'll take expert lubrication by a man who knows cars and is conscientious about getting every part, giving it its full share of the exact lubricant it needs, and never missing a single one. And where can you find such a man? Why, right at that friendly station in your neighborhood, wearing signals, yellow and black, circle sign. You see, because your signal dealer is in his own business, he has naturally made car care his specialty. And because he wants to stay in business permanently, he does the kind of job he's proud to stand back of. The kind of job that will keep you his steady customer. That's why your signal man is a mighty good man for you to know now, when you really want your car to go farther. Now, back to The Whistler. The Whistler Well, Mark, the combination was too much for you. The dull, dry monotony of a desert town, your complaining middle-aged wife, and artist's mayo. That's the big reason why you agreed to commit murder, isn't it? You forgot about the money and the desert. Nothing seemed important except artists. And you found yourself agreeing before you knew what was happening. But you're beginning to waver now, with the desert wind wailing outside the window, as you stand over Emma's bed with artists. Well, it's... it's over. Listen to her heart. Yeah. She's alive, still beating. Well, let's get her out of here before she comes to. Wait a minute, artist. We're not going to get away with this. They'll catch up with us. Shut up, Mark. It's too late now. Get a hold of yourself. You are going through with this. Do you hear me? Come on now, help me. All right, artist. Well, is this the place? Wait a minute. Yes. Yes, it's a hundred foot drop over that bank. Come on, get out. All right. I'll take her feet. No, no. Put your arm under her shoulders. Under? Yes. Careful now. Now to the front seat. Easy. There. Don't let her fall on the steering wheel, you fool. I'm sorry. Okay. Now what? Fingerprints. Give me your handkerchief. Oh, here. That's it. There. Takes care of the steering wheel. Now, clamp her hands on the wheel in the driving position. So it'll be her fingerprints in case anyone should get snoopy. And cold. Okay. All right. All right, now put it in gear. Start it rolling and jump. Look, are you sure everything's... Oh, of course I'm sure. Hurry up. All right. Okay, here goes. All right, jump. There. That ought to do it. Come on. What do you mean? We're going down to check up. A very thorough girl, isn't she, Mark? The car is deep in the gulch. The one light still burning shows that. And you scramble down to it. The wreckage is quite satisfying, isn't it? And inside it is Emma Naylor. How about it? She's dead, all right. It's quiet down here, isn't it? Don't have that blasted wind whipping around. Let's go back. Where? To the house to phone into town and inquire about Emma. She's been gone a long time and we're worried about her. Then we come back here and we find her. We find her? Why not let them find her? With the ground full of art footprints up on the road and all around the car? Oh, no, Mark. We do the finding. Never thought about that. Guess I better let you run things, hadn't I? That's a good idea. Oh, and Mark. Yeah? I'll be staying at the hotel for the sake of appearances. Well, when can we... That's going to take time, Mark. There'll be an autopsy, an inquest, and then, well, maybe in six months or so. Yeah. Uh, look, artist, I'm sorry I busted up on you. I guess you're right after all. It wasn't as tough as that. You're all set, aren't you, Mark? You've decided all your nervousness was imagination. You can hardly wait now to get away from the desert and start your new life with artists. Even the sheriff is cooperative. He seems to feel genuinely sympathetic, and he's very quick to explain that the questions are merely for the record. You know how it is, Mr. Naylor, just routine. Sure, I know. I'll tell you everything I possibly can. How old was Mrs. Naylor? Uh, 57. I believe you said she came here for her health. That's right. How long had you and Mrs. Naylor been married? Oh, 11 months. Did you know her very long before that? About a year. A year. How'd you happen to meet Mrs. Naylor? Well, I was selling burial plots, and she was one of my prospects. You didn't continue with that line of business, did you, Mr. Naylor? Well, no. After we were married, my wife wanted me to devote all my time to her. I see. Now, Mrs. Mayo, how long were you and Mrs. Naylor's employed? Oh, it must have been about five months. You were working for her before she came here, then? Yes. Have you always done this line of work, Mrs. Naylor? Oh, I've done it for quite a while. How many other people did you work for before you were employed by Mrs. Naylor? Oh, there were several. Are you married, Mrs. Mayo? No. No, I'm not. Have you ever been married? Yes. I'm a widow. Well, I guess that'll do for now, folks. Well, you'll probably think up something else for us later on. Yeah. You'll probably be finding me quite a pest. You know how it is. Oh, sure. We know how it is. Well, I better be getting back to town. Well, see you later, folks. Goodbye. You never told me you'd been married. Never occurred to me to tell you. Well, I thought I knew everything about you. This is a news slide. Oh, you're not going to pout about it, are you? You never told me you were a tombstone salesman. I sold burial plots. What an intriguing way for Emma to meet her future widower. Don't kid about it. I'm in no mood for jokes. Oh, stop fretting, Mark. Everything is going beautifully. She's right, isn't she, Mark? Not a hitch so far. Except for an unexplained delay in the inquest. You wait. In the house you and Emma had shared on the edge of town, kept indoors by the heat and the desert wind. There are long hours to kill, all by yourself, with nothing to do but smoke cigarettes and think. Artists is almost a stranger now. She won't see you because of appearances. And on the rare occasions when you are together, there's no feeling of relief at all. Just a kind of nervousness that makes you jump at each other's throats. Mark, will you shut up? I tell you everything's all right. Well, then why the delay? This keeps up. I'm going to start talking to myself. It's only been a few days. Oh, it's been a week. They're holding it up on purpose. I tell you, they've got something on us. Oh, they haven't got a thing. I don't care. I can't stand this much longer. You've got to. Oh, look, why couldn't I tell them I've got to run back to the coast on business? You told the sheriff you'd given up your business. Well, you could explain to him. Oh, don't be idiotic. It's out. Oh, listen, Mark, we're almost in now. Let's not start wrangling. Think about where we're going when we get the money. Florida, Miami Beach. I don't like Florida. Oh, you'll get over it. You've never seen anything like Miami in the winter. I said I don't like Florida. You may as well learn right now that you're not going to get anywhere taking that tone with me. Oh, I don't care what you think. I'm going back to the coast. Sure you are. The Atlantic coast, Miami Beach. You know, someday you're not going to get by with that. What? That smug, irritating attitude of yours. You think you know all the answers, don't you? Depends on who's asking the questions. Now, what do you mean by that? You answer that one. Yes, Mark, the line that divides infatuation from hatred is a fine one. And you don't realize, you just crossed it. That the groundwork is all prepared for your discovery a few days later of an entry in one of Emma's diaries. January 18th. Today, I finally decided to take Artis's advice to go to the desert. I know Mark won't appear to be very happy with the fact that he's been in the desert for a long time. I decided to take Artis's advice to go to the desert. I know Mark won't approve, but Artis is right after all. My health does come first. That little liar. Who is it? Mark. Don't knock the door down, just a minute. What's the matter with you? I told you not to come here. Close the door. Now, wait a minute. I said close the door. Now go on, sit down. I want to talk to you. Why are you looking at me like that? Go on, sit down. All right, since you're an expert on questions and answers, how about this one? Whose idea was it coming to the desert? Yours or Emma's? What's that got to do with... Shut up! It has everything to do with it. It means you had the whole works planned before we left California. You figured me for a sucker, didn't you, Artis? Yeah, you had the whole picture, convincing Emma to come here, knowing it would make me willing to kill her after kicking around in the sand and heat for a few months. Don't argue with me. It's all there in Emma's diary. What do you mean it's in her diary? I mean there's enough foundation for some pretty solid guessing. You even had the community property law figured out, didn't you? Yeah, back there I was legally entitled to half her income. Here I don't get a dime. You knew that would work on me too, didn't you? Especially with that sand grinding into my brain. It was Emma's idea. Oh, don't give me that. You suggested it to her. You kept prodding her until she gave in. Keep your voice down. You want to marry me, don't you? Why? Well, I... So you can take care of me like you did Emma. That's it, isn't it? If you don't keep quiet... You do nothing. And you're not running away from me any longer. Keep away from me. I'll show you who's doing the thinking from now on. I said keep away from me. I just want to get my hands on that lily-white neck of yours. I'm warning you, Art. You put down that gun! Get away from me! Mark, you let me hear you argue now! Oh, boy, you... You big baboon. So it didn't work out, did it, Mark? The thing got a little too complicated for you. You were never cut out for murder. You knew it from the first. And now that it's over, even the sheriff is convinced... that you'd be the last person in the world... who'd ever think of killing anyone. But I'm telling you the truth, Sheriff. I shot him in self-defense. He came into my room in a rage and he tried to kill me. Now, wait a minute, Miss Mayo. You're not trying to tell me that a spineless little guy like Mark Nailor... Oh, but you don't know him. Don't tell me I don't know him... while he'd pass out at the mention of murder. And you're trying to tell me he walked right up to you... and tried to kill you with his bare hands... while you held a gun on him without any reason? He had a reason. What? Well, I don't know what it was, but... Oh, you don't know what it was, but you're sure he had one. I guess that'll be all, Miss Mayo. But, Sheriff... I said that'll be all. You can save the rest for your trial in court. I'm holding you for the murder of Mark Nailor. The Whistler will return in just a moment... with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, let me ask you a question. Why do you suppose it is that the new 1946 cars... are putting so much emphasis on more miles per gallon of gasoline? Is it because folks today are interested in making dollars go farther? Yes. But even more so, is it because the new cars are putting so much emphasis... on more miles per gallon of gasoline? That's because the new cars go farther? Yes. But even more, they're interested in the reasons back of that mileage. The improved engineering, the higher compression and better carburation... that make the new cars go farther on each gallon. And there you also have the reason why Signal Oil Company is so proud to announce... that you now go farther than ever with new signal gasoline. You see, that increased mileage is the result of power. The same power that gives new signal gasoline quicker starting, faster pickup... and quieter, higher antinock. That's why we say look to your speedometer for the final measure of gasoline quality. You'll find that the super-powered gasoline that gives you peak performance... is also the gasoline that now helps you go farther than ever. New signal gasoline. And now, back to the Whistler. Yes, Mark, you crossed the thin line. And once across it, everything fell to pieces. You didn't realize until the last moment, until the instant... between the blinding flash of the gun and the plunge into blackness... how much you hated artists. How far to the other side of the line the murder of Emma Naylor had thrust you. And it was also unnecessary, Mark, if you'd only read further in Emma's diary... particularly the last entry. But Mr. Corner, I don't understand how a woman in Mrs. Naylor's condition... could go riding in an automobile. Frankly, Sheriff, I think she was capable of almost anything. There's no arguing with the results of the autopsy... and, of course, the entry in her diary is conclusive. Well, that's good enough for me. Enter the verdict in the record, clerk. Death by suicide from a self-administered dose of Ammonol... taken in a fit of despondency... after being deserted by Mark Naylor, her husband. That's all, sir? Yeah, that's all. The case of the death of Emma Naylor is closed. Next Monday at 9 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 Buckley Angel... music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the armed forces of the United States. It is transmitted to our troops overseas by the armed forces radio service. That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, The Whistler. This is Marvin Miller speaking, reminding you to look for those familiar... yellow and black circle signs that identify those popular signal oil stations... in seven western states from Canada to Mexico. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
