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 Whistler. And 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 strange sisters. The three Randall girls were as different from each other as day and night. Even the people of Newton who had watched them grow up found it hard to accept the fact that they were sisters. Pamela, the eldest, was forceful and overbearing, heavy set and unattractive. Kathy, the youngest, was a weakling. Life was a little too complicated for her, and she found the easiest solution was to let Pamela face it, to bring her problems to Pamela, to listen meekly to Pamela's instructions, and then to quietly obey. Yes, Pamela and Kathy were two extremes, and Sally, the third sister, was in the middle, both in age and temperament. The combination of Pamela's strength and Kathy's frailty had produced in Sally a kind of radiance that had made life easy for her, that had made her sure of success where her sisters had failed. And the more she succeeded, the harder it became for Pamela and Kathy to face it, until one morning Mrs. Stokes, the housekeeper, called Kathy for breakfast. There was no answer. Miss Kathy, your breakfast is on the table. That girl takes a team of horses to get her out of bed. Miss Kathy! Your breakfast is ready, young lady, and I ain't going to keep it warm for you another moment. Miss Kathy, answer me. I know you're... Good Lord! Locked. Now, my key. Here. Miss Kathy, what are you... Gas. The heater. Where's the handle? There. Miss Pamela! Miss Pamela, come up quick! The window. There. Miss Pam? What's the matter? What's the matter with you? It's Kathy. She's... Oh, Miss Pamela. Miss Kathy? Miss Kathy? Here, here, like me. Kathy. Kathy, dear. Let me see her pulse. Oh, she's alive. Call Dr. Johnson quickly. When do you think she's... Don't stand there like an idiot. Call a doctor. Yes, Miss Pamela. Right away. Hello, Pamela. Well, it's nice of you to leave your work, Sally. That's a peculiar remark to make. I think it's apropos of the moment. I don't. As usual, I suppose we disagree. Where is she? In there with Dr. Johnson. Will she be all right? I don't know yet. I'm going in and... Wait a minute. You're not going in there. You can't stop me, Pamela. I've got a right to know. And since you didn't choose to tell me over the phone, I'll find out for myself. I said wait. Kathy is my sister, too, Pamela. She doesn't belong to you. You've had her under your thumb for so long, the poor girl can't even think for herself. All right, go on in if you want to kill her. What do you mean by that? I've managed to convince Dr. Johnson it was an accident. It was an accident. She left the gas heater on and then... They've never been very clever, Sally. Kathy tried to kill herself. You're wrong. You're making it up. She didn't have a reason. I admit it wasn't a very good reason, but it's been used a thousand times. Go on. It's a man, Sally, and a rather shabby specimen at that. She was in love? Yes. How long has it been going on? Six months or more. You're sure? Of course I'm sure. Who is it, Pamela? Your fiancé. Henry? Why? Oh, you're wrong. You must be wrong. He never gave her any reason. He's hardly even spoken to her. You asked me and I told you. Pamela, where did Kathy get the idea that Henry French was in love with her? Tell me, Pamela, where did it come from? I don't know. You stepped into that part of her life, too, didn't you? Answer me. Oh, come now, Sally, don't distort that pretty finishing school face of yours. It's your biggest asset, you know. It's gotten you everything you ever wanted. There's no end to what it can do. How can you be so contemptible? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are clever, insinuating your way into Father's confidence, bowing and scraping, playing the faithful daughter when he was ill. That's why Father left everything to you when he died. Fifty thousand dollars and two sisters to provide for, if and when you felt like it. We're your favorite charity, aren't we? That's part of the act, too. Lady Bountiful. I've heard all I want to hear, Pamela. Very well, perhaps you'd better go. I'm going to see Kathy whether you like it or not. You see, I was wrong. I'm admitting it. Oh? I was wrong in leaving you and Kathy under the same roof. I just hope it isn't too late to do anything about it. Perhaps you're forgetting it's my roof, too. As long as I choose to let you stay here, Pamela. Hmm. It's funny, isn't it, Pamela? You try to be fair, you try to do the right thing, and it all blows up in your face. Well, Dr. Johnson? I think she's going to be all right. May I see her doctor? Uh, she asked for Pamela. Oh, well, I'm sure if she knows I'm here. Uh, perhaps you'd better wait, Sally. She was rather specific. What do you mean, specific? She doesn't want to see you, Sally. Oh. I'll go in, Doctor. Are you going to wait, Sally? No. I'll go. I left her prescription on the dresser, Pamela. Three drops and half a glass of water every four hours. Uh, may I drop you off somewhere, Sally? Oh, thank you, Doctor. Kathy? Kathy, are you all right? No. No, I'm not all right. I'll never be all right anymore. You mustn't feel that way, dear. I made a mess of this, too. I never do things right, do I, Pam? What will... what will Henry think of me now? They only know what I told them, Kathy. They think it was an accident. Don't worry about Henry, dear. You must have been wrong, Pam. He doesn't love me. He couldn't. He would have told me. He wouldn't have just gone off with Sally. Well, maybe you'll believe me now, Kathy. She's capable of anything. She owns it all now. The house, the money, and now Henry French. Don't you see, Kathy? He was the only thing she didn't have. He was yours. And she made up her mind she wanted him, too. He never told me. Of course he didn't, Sally. Never gave him a chance. I hate her. It's awful, Pam, but I can't help it. I hate her. So do I. What can we do? Maybe you'd better rest a while now. No, no. Tell me, Pam. What are we going to do? There's a way. Yes, there is a way. What? Kathy. Kathy, we're going to kill her. With the prologue of tonight's story, we're going to kill the strange sisters. The Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. You've no doubt noticed those big red and yellow billboards that tell you you now go farther than ever with new signal gasoline. Well, that's important. But unfortunately, there isn't room on those billboards to tell the equally important part of the story, the finer performance in new signal gasoline that makes this good mileage possible. The new signal gasoline saves gas. Signal's smooth, fast pickup saves gas. And Signal's effortless anti-knock power that sends your motor purring up the steepest hills saves gas. So you see, the features in gasoline that make driving a pleasure are the very same ones that add up to more mileage. That's why we say your speedometer is the best proof of gasoline quality. If you want the tops in performance from your car, the logical place to find it is the new super fuel that now helps you go farther than ever. New signal gasoline. And now, back to the Whistler. Well, Pamela, jealousy can do strange things to a mind like yours, can't it? And it's a peculiar mind, filled to the bursting point with frustrated black hatred for your sister Sally, accumulated during the long years the three of you spent under the same roof with your father. She always had everything, didn't she? You and Kathy had to take what was left and like it. Yes, Pamela, that jealous hatred has brought you to the point where you'll stop at nothing, lying, cheating, twisting the truth in such a way that your poor gullible sister Kathy believes the very existence of Sally condemns her to begging for crumbs at Sally's table when the bread is rightfully hers. And you've thought of everything, haven't you, Pamela? You're confident that Kathy is prepared for the talk with Sally that's bound to come sooner or later. But Kathy, I know I'm right about Pamela. Why must you always talk about Pamela? Pamela did this if it wasn't for Pamela. Oh, stop it, will you? I tell you, Pamela's the only one in the world I can turn to. Please, Kathy, please believe me, you're wrong. I'm not wrong. You are, dear. She's sealed your mind with all sorts of hateful lies about me and Henry. Why do you keep throwing that in my face? Henry, Henry, Henry! He's yours now, isn't he? You've got him. You were smart, just like she said. All right, take him. But, Maryam, I don't care. Doesn't make any difference now. Kathy, apparently there's nothing I can do or say that will make any difference in the way you feel. I promised Father I'd take care of you. Well, I'm leaving you the house and all the furniture. And I'm making arrangements for a trust fund that'll provide for you both. That's charitable of you. Under the circumstances, I think it is. I'll expect you and Pamela to be civil to Henry until we leave. Is that clear? Is he coming here? Yes. To live? Yes, for a week or so. I don't understand. It's very simple. We're going to be married tonight. Yes, Pamela. Kathy was prepared, wasn't she? Sally was right. Nothing she could do or say would make any difference. Because Kathy is yours, isn't she? For too many years, she's depended on you for guidance, looked to you for advice, regarded everything you said as truth and everything else false. Yes, jealousy is a strange thing, Pamela. It's been there, deep inside you, for as long as you can remember. And it was convenient for you to find a cause for it. Sally and your father, the legacy, the house, the money. But that's gone now, isn't it, Pamela? Sally's been pretty fair about it. She and Henry are married now, and you have the house and your share of the money. That's what's strange about jealousy. The cause is gone, but it's still there, stronger than ever. And with it, your plan for murder. Did you get the key to their room for Mrs. Stokes? Yes. Here it is. She doesn't know you have it. No, she's gone to the store. I took it off the hook. Give it to me. What are you going to do? Just look around a little. Why? Henry's things are up there. He brought them in last night before they left. Well? I'm just curious, Kathy. Just curious. All right, Kathy, you can put the key back now. Did you find anything? Yes, several things. What? Kathy, I'll do the shopping tomorrow. Shopping? Pam, you never do... I'll tell you later. It seems Mr. French is a vicious man, Kathy. Perhaps you're just as well rid of him. Vicious? Of course. He must be dear. Otherwise, why would he keep a loaded revolver in the upper drawer of his dresser? Well, Miss Pamela, what are you doing around here? Why, you ain't been in the store for six months now. I thought the walk might do me good. Where will it be? A small rolled roast, please. About three pounds, perhaps. I got just the thing for you here. You ain't looking too well if you don't mind my seeing, so... Something wrong? No, nothing. Oh. Eh, will this do? Yes, that'll be fine. It's kind of small. It'll do, Mr. Watkins. You see, Kathy and I haven't been too well lately. I thought so. Now, come on. What's up? Oh, I know I shouldn't say anything, but I've got to talk to someone, Mr. Watkins. Gosh, is it that bad? I don't know. It's Sally and that husband of hers. You don't say. They've been quarreling dreadfully. It's been going on all morning, and I just had to get away from it somehow. It was only married night before last. You won't say anything, will you, Mr. Watkins? Promise me. Sure, sure. Well, it's about the estate. Sally told him she was going to deed part of it to Kathy and me, and he flew into the most dreadful pit of temper. I could hardly believe my eyes. Here's your sugar, Miss Pamela. Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I'm sure sorry about that. You won't say anything, will you? Oh, no, no. Ain't there anything you can do? Let's see now. You wanted a shampoo and a finger wave, Miss Pamela. Yes. Gosh, you know, I can hardly get my mind and my work after what you told me. You won't say anything, will you? Oh, of course not, Miss Pamela. Not a word. You're very efficient, aren't you, Pamela? The town of Newton is like a smooth pond. All you have to do is cast a few pebbles here and there, and the ripples spread over the whole surface, clear to the edges. There's another step now, a very important one. Sally is hostile and suspicious, and you're going to need her confidence. Who is it? Pamela. Well, Pamela. May I come in? Must you? Please don't make it difficult for me, Sally. I don't understand. I have something to tell you. I'd like to come in and sit down if you don't mind. All right, Pamela. Now? Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking, Sally, and I haven't slept much, not since you told us about the house and the money. Yes, it was so unexpected. I... Well, you see, it threw me a little off balance. What are you trying to say? You know me so well, Sally. The past few years have been hard, and I know I've been unreasonable and difficult. Pamela, you're trying to say you're sorry, aren't you? Oh, I... I'm so clumsy at this sort of thing. Oh, I do so want to have you and Henry forgive me. Oh, my dear. I really believe you mean it. I do, Sally, I do mean it. And I'm going to try to make Kathy understand, too. You're right, Sally. I've been such a terrible influence on the poor thing. Pam, darling, I'm so happy that it's working out. Sally, I... Come on now, let's forget all about it. I'm sure Henry will understand. It's odd, isn't it? I had the feeling underneath that somehow it would work out. I just knew it, Pam. Thank you, Sally. Thank you. Now, you go on downstairs and tell Kathy I've got to finish the packing. Packing? But you're not leaving until the end of the week. Henry has to make a business trip to New York. Some things he has to settle up before we leave. When's he going? Tonight. He's leaving at nine. Oh, that reminds me, I must call the cab. He said to be sure to have it here for him promptly at nine. Now, you run down and tell Kathy it's all cleared up, will you? Of course, Sally. Of course. That's what I get for avoiding them. How could I have been so stupid? It's all right, Pam. Henry will be back. Don't be ridiculous. He's leaving for New York tonight, and they're taking the steamer from there in four days. No, Kathy. He's not coming back. He'll send for her, and she'll meet him there. But isn't there some way? There's only one way. It's got to happen tonight. Oh, I'm scared. Pam, maybe... Oh, stop jibbering, Kathy. The town is ready for it, and it's going to happen. Henry French is going to shoot his wife in a fit of temper and try to leave the country. Pam, the gun. How are we going to get the gun? You see, we can't do it. We can't do it without the gun. And it's in his dresser, and yet she's up there. I said stop jibbering. I've got to think. Turn on the light. It's getting dark in here. Yes, Pam. There. The light. Yes. The light. That's it. The light. What is it, Pam? Kathy, the fuse box is in the basement, in the furnace room. The fuse box. You'll get here about six. I'll go down in the basement and unscrew a fuse. The lights will go out. You know Henry, he'll trot down to the basement to fix it. What about Sally? I'll wait till she's downstairs. You'll be on the second floor in the room at the end of the corridor. And then, when he leaves, you can go into the room and get the gun. You can see it pretty clearly now, can't you, Pamela? The people versus Henry French. The charge murder. It's easy to think there in the basement as you wait in a dark corner after you unscrew the fuse and listen to the confusion upstairs as they stumble around in the dark. Then, as an afterthought, you find an old blown out fuse on the shelf and screw it into place, just in case Henry might wonder how a perfectly good one could come unscrewed by itself. Then, when it's over, you return secretly to your room at the end of the second floor corridor. Did you get it? Yes, it is. I wore my gloves, Pam, just as you told me. All right, now listen, we haven't much time. He's down there now waiting for the taxi. Have you got your watch on? Yes. Now, let's see. Oh, luminous dial, that's good. Now, listen carefully. The taxi is calling promptly at 9 o'clock. Understand, it's going to happen shortly after he leaves, about 5 past 9. Who's going to do it? You are. Oh, Pam! You've got to. I'll have to be upstairs. You'll be in the basement. Henry will leave in the taxi at 9, and I'll get Sally up on the second floor on some pretext. At 5 past 9, I'll scream that you've fallen down the basement stairs. She'll run down. Yes, Pam. I understand. Now, remember, not until after 9 o'clock. We've got to be sure Henry is gone. All right, Pam. I'll look at my watch. I promise. Good. Now, you'd better get down there. It would be rude of me not to be there to say goodbye to him. So the time has come, hasn't it, Pamela? Forty years of pent-up hatred is about to find release at last. For the first time in your life, you're actually cordial to Henry as you make small talk with him in the entrance hallway, and you feel a glow of satisfaction as you watch him carry his bags to the waiting taxi. Then, just as you begin to wonder why Sally isn't there to see him off, you hear a foot on the stair, and your heart stops. Sally. What's the matter? Why, the...the suitcase. You're in traveling clothes. What's the matter with that? You're going to. Oh, that's it. I guess I'm not used to having you concerned about me, Pam. As a matter of fact, we decided just five minutes ago I convinced Henry that walking out on his wife after four days of marriage was a pretty dirty trick. Yes, dear, I'm coming. Well, goodbye, Pamela. I'll worry you if we decide not to come back. Sally, you...you can't. What's the matter? Nothing. Nothing, Sally. You watch unbelieving as she walks down the steps to the taxi cab. It failed, didn't it? Just like everything else you ever tried. Sally succeeded and you failed. There's a lump in your throat. You're all choked up with disappointment and bitter, corrosive hatred. Then suddenly you realize there is another way. You've got to get to Kathy and tell her. You glance at the clock, 8.45, it's still safe. Then over to the basement door. Kathy! Kathy! Pam! Pamela! The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, I'd like to tell you about an interesting experiment I witnessed the other day. An automobile motor that had been driven 35,000 miles without taking the head off was being torn down for inspection. Ordinarily you'd expect to find a good deal of carbon in the cylinder head and worn motor parts, but this motor was remarkably clean, free of carbon and all parts were in excellent condition. Now the thing which makes these results so interesting is that this motor was lubricated only with Signal 4-Star motor oil. A Signal engineer who was present, however, explained to me why Signal 4-Star oil takes such good care of motors. Because of solvent refining, one of the latest and most costly developments in petroleum engineering, Signal 4-Star motor oil has three important advantages. One, forms less carbon, far less by actual tests than many leading brands. Two, its tougher film clings to moving parts, protecting them from wear and sealing in power. And three, Signal 4-Star oil flows freely, instantly on coldest mornings, yet doesn't thin out when your motor is hot. In these days when motors have to last and last, your motor needs this triple protection. You can get it by making your next oil change a change to the better, a change to Signal 4-Star motor oil. And now back to the Whistler. So it didn't work out, Pamela. You're a failure even in death. And without you, Kathy had lost. She's helpless now, cringing before the sharp questions the officers throw at her, trying futilely to lie her way out of a hopeless trap. And Sally stands there, unbelieving, as the hatred, the jealousies come to the surface for all the world to see. More questions, more stumbling answers, then still more and more until finally... All right, we did it. We planned to kill her. Leave me alone. Take her away, Joe. Well, there you are, Mrs. French. I can't believe it. It's so fantastic. Yeah, it isn't that. They knew Mr. French was leaving at nine, planned to kill you with his gun. In the dresser drawer. That's where he kept it. Pamela was smart, Mrs. French, but she forgot one thing. The clock on the wall read 8.45, so she figured it was safe to open the basement door where Kathy was waiting to kill you. She forgot it was an electric clock. When she pulled the fuse down there and cut out the current, the clock lost 18 minutes. 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, produced by George W. Allen, based on a story by Bernard Girard and Zane Mann, music by Wilbur Hatch, 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.
