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 West Coast program. And gasoline, you know, it takes extra quality to go farther. And signal is the famous go farther gasoline. So look for the signal circle sign in yellow and black that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Weak sister. Bertilda stood at the window looking apprehensively at the old burying ground at the foot of the hill. A little group of people from the village down the road stood in twos and threes around the open grave of Captain Ethan Haskell. Bertilda always liked to stand at the window like this, watching through the dingy lace curtain. Yes, today especially with Captain Ethan being laid away. There was a strange fascination in her timid little face, a look of morbid curiosity in her pale blue eyes. She didn't hear her older sister Amanda come up behind her. Bertilda! Oh Amanda, you frightened me. Bertilda Sterling, pull down that window. It's beginning to rain. Land sakes, you'd think after all these years you'd have enough sense to be careful. Right Amanda, now I'm not going to be able to see the hearse when it comes. Oh if you ain't the limit Bertie, you said you didn't want to go to Captain Ethan's funeral. I like funerals, but they always frighten me so. When a body has lived fifty years overlooking a graveyard it appears to me they ought to be used to it. Here, let me look. Be careful with the curtains, they'll see you. We got a right to look out of our windows. Look at that, they'll get soaked to the skin all of them. Just like Captain Ethan to be late for his own burial. Amanda, there's no way to talk about the dead. Nonsense Bertie. Look at the sheriff down there. The Doctor too. They wasn't particularly friendly with the Captain Bertie. What do you suppose they're doing down there at the burial? Rolling up your collar ain't going to keep off the rain Doc. That's not what give me the chill Sheriff. Eh, I know what you mean. Don't turn round, keep your back to the house. I can feel them watching us through that dining room window. They're a queer pair. Thirty years ago I told them Sheriff, move out of that gloomy old house, mix with people before it's too late. Eh, still might be hard to believe she'd poison a man Doc. Eh, if you'd stopped this funeral nonsense, I'd had proof for you by now. Had to wait for Enic Haskell to authorize the autopsy. But with him being the brother of the deceased, only living relative. Eh, funerals are a waste of time anyway. Eh, I recommend you don't fill in over the coffin. Only going to have them dig him up again. You don't suppose Amanda will show up, do you? Eh, she's smart enough to know it'll look queer if she doesn't show up. You ask me, I think she's fixing to come down right now. Amanda Stern, what you doing with that umbrella? You're not going out into the rain. I'm going down to the burial ground. Decided one of us ought to pay last respects to Ethan Haskell. You'll catch your death at cult. Probably will. Look queer if I didn't go though. No wonder his brother Enic didn't come back to town today. Seems he ought to be here for the burial. Maybe he didn't want to come. Oh, likely. I never knew a Haskell that wasn't a stubborn contender. Amanda, you're talking about the dead again. Ethan's dead now. That's fake alive. To listen to you, anybody would think we had to watch our tongues or our neighbors down there in the graveyard would rise up in their shrouds and... Please, please Amanda, don't say such things. All right, pretty. I'm going now. I expect you'll want to lock yourself in. I'm so frightened when you're gone. No sense to it, of course. You can watch from the window. Be careful, Amanda. The rain. Don't worry. I'll throw my coat over me. Oh, there comes the casket now. Pretty one with silver trimmings. They're moving back to make way for it. All mourning him. Amanda too. I wonder what they'd say if they knew she fed him those poison preserves. I wonder. With the prologue of Weak Sister, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange tale by the Whistler. Pardon me, Mr. Miller. Marvin to you, beautiful. Well then, pardon me Marvin, but a few weeks ago you mentioned that the speedometer on a car can tell you the quality of the gasoline you're using. That's right, gorgeous. Well, my speedometer shows how fast I'm going and how far I've gone. But what I want you to tell me, Marvin, is how can my speedometer show the quality of the gasoline I'm using? Oh, nothing would give me more pleasure, sugar. After all, isn't it only logical that to get more mileage, a gasoline must help your motor run more efficiently? Yes. And you also know that signal is the famous go farther gasoline. Well, natch. So, putting two and two together, the thing which makes the good mileage in today's signal gasoline possible is the extra performance it gets from your motor. It's quicker starting, it's faster pickup, and quieter, higher anti-knock. For after all, it takes extra quality to go farther. Oh, I see. Then the better the gasoline is, the more mileage I get. Right you are, baby. Which explains why so many drivers are switching to signal the famous go farther gasoline. Is that clear, my dear? Oh, who could help being convinced by the great Marvin Miller? Oh, brother. And now, as you always say, Marvin, back to the Whistler. It's a fascinating thing to watch, isn't it, Bertie? This burial service for Captain Ethan, there in the graveyard at the foot of the hill. You hardly notice the wind and rain coming in the open window as you stand there, because your mind is somewhere else. On the dinner, Amanda served the three of you a few nights ago in this very house. Of the special peach preserves she served to the captain. Of the telephone call in the middle of the night. And the news that he had been found dead in the road where he'd fallen on his way home from the dinner. And you can see her down there now, piously mourning the captain's passing. Yes, that does make it more interesting, doesn't it? The mourners finally disperse and night settles over the graveyard. You're alone a few minutes more and then Amanda returns. Here, take my umbrella. I want to make a telephone call. You stayed so long. Shall I light a fire, Amanda? Good idea. It seems as though this place is never really warm. We should have sold it when father died. Well, what are you waiting for? Nothing, Amanda. I know what you're after. You just want to hear what I'm... Operator? Will you please call the sheriff, Luella? Anything the matter, Amanda? I haven't time to stand here gabbing, Luella. Just ring Sheriff Harris and don't bother to listen in. Well, I never. Always makes me feel better to say a thing straight out. I know you were speaking around the bush. Sheriff Harris speaking. Sheriff, this is Amanda Sterling. I want to put in a complaint about that gravedigger, Ed Parker. What's wrong, Amanda? That grave's still open out there. He didn't fill it in. They filled in in due course, Amanda. Nothing to worry about. Guarantee old Ethan ain't going to climb out and go wandering around. That isn't the point. Better go pull your shades down, Amanda, and mind your own business. Well, if you think I pay taxes to listen to that kind of... Let me tell you, Fred Harris, if that grave ain't filled in tomorrow, I'm going straight to the town council. Goodbye. Of all the impudent... Amanda, is the grave really open? Yes, it's open. I ought to go down and teach him a thing or two about manners. What did he say? Never mind, never mind. No use threatening you two. Now, where'd you put my umbrella? There in the corner. Well, I'm not going to worry about it. Some folks like the sheriff always have something impetuous to say. Oh, here. Look what I tucked inside my umbrella. The flower? Lily? Yes. I picked it up from the grave when the rest had gone. It's pretty, isn't it? Any water in the vase and the mantel? Amanda, you've got to take it back now. Don't be silly, Bertie. You must, Amanda. It belongs to the dead. Don't expect Ethan will come back for it. Now let me see. He's doing that to torture me. You take a flower from a grave, the dead will come to take it back. Now don't let it touch me. Oh, nonsense. You put it on the mantel. I won't stay in this house another minute. You come for it, I tell you. You come for it. Now you know what will happen, Bertie. Working yourself up that way with your heart the way it is. Just take it back. That's all I want. Take it back. Oh, the silliest thing I ever heard of. This superstition of yours. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. All right, Bertie. I'll take it back to the grave. But just to show you there's nothing to be afraid of, I'm going to take you with me. Watch your step, Matilda. Cruel of you to make me do this, man. Since it's high time someone showed you how ridiculous it is to be afraid of such things. That dreaded storm. Body can't see ten feet. There. There's headstone, man. Put the flashlight on. What do you think I've been trying to do? It won't work. The flash of lightning. Nothing to be afraid of. No, not that. Somebody's over there by that grave. If you're going to start imagining things, I will... There is someone over there. It's the flower. It's coming for its flower. Be quiet, Bertie. Captain Ethan. Mander. Mander, it's coming. It does look like him. Now get hold of yourself. I'm getting dizzy. Now... Help me, Mander. Don't you go fainting on me. Oh, my goodness. The flashlight. The flashlight. If I could... Ah, there we are. Who's there? Who's there? Oh. It's you. Yes, Mander. It's me. Bertie. Bertie, look. It's only in its... Bertie. Bertie. Bertie. Bertie. It's only Enoch, Bertie. It's Captain Ethan's brother. Bertie. Well, what's the matter? You scared the life out of her, that's what. Talking around like a spook. Here. Help me with her. Here we are. My medicine. Well, now here you are, dear. Lucky I always carry it with me. Enoch. It was only Enoch. Yes, dear, yes. Only Enoch. You gave her the fright of her life. You know how she feels. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. You know how she feels about these things, Amanda. Funny you'd bring her down to the graveyard at a time like this. Almost as if you... As if what? As if you were trying to scare her to death. Why, that's nonsense and you know it. It might be. But it's a funny time for the two of you to be wandering around here, ain't it? I took this flower home from the services. Bertie made me bring it back. And what might you be doing here, Enoch Haskell? I was taking a shortcut to your house. Thought I'd tell you the sheriff wants to see you, Amanda. And in case you're wondering, there's no body over there in the grave. Post-mortem, you know. When does the sheriff want to see me? Right now, Amanda. Right now. Well, Bertie, at least it's done. The flower is back where it belongs. You're shaking now and cold and your poor sick heart is thumping inside you. As Amanda helps you up the hill to the house, you glance occasionally at her. At the pale, determined face, the worried look around the eyes. She's wondering how much you know about that poison fruit. Isn't she, Bertie? She knows she's going to have trouble explaining it to the sheriff. And you wish you could go with her and... instead of remaining home, alone, locked in the old house, it should be quite a battle. The sheriff is a very persistent man. I'll get right to the point, Amanda. You and I grew up together in this town, but this here's an official matter above personal feelings. Hope you understand. Go ahead, sheriff. Don't need to tell you how this town loves a scandal, Amanda. There's nothing scandalous about us and Captain Ethan, as far as I can see. Maybe not. Only Doc thinks there's more to Ethan's death than meets the eye. For instance what? It was poison, Captain Ethan. The kind of poison found in canned goods, preserves, for instance. Ethan ate his last meal at your house, Amanda. Hit him on the way home. Hello, Enik. Have a chair. Thanks, sheriff. I'll stand. Now, Amanda, about the preserves. What about the preserves? Why, Ethan always said he loved your spiced peaches, Amanda. Well, what if he did? There's nothing wrong with my sliced peaches. I eat them myself all the time. I'd consider it a favor, Amanda, if you'd let me have a jar of those spiced peaches for the doctor in-laws. What? You're going to give her a chance like this, Fred? I've got nothing to hide, Enik Haskell. Maybe not. And then again... What do you mean, Enik? I can't forget that look on her face down in the graveyard when she thought I was Ethan. I think they're wrong. I've known her all my life. She wouldn't harm a fly. No? Well, I think she killed my brother. Give me 30 seconds with that weak-kneed sister of hers. You can keep away from Bertie if you know what's good for you. Why, Amanda? Why? You're afraid she might spill something? Is that it? She don't know anything about this. Don't get riled, Amanda. Fact remains, Ethan died from poison, and he ate his last meal with you. Now, that can either mean some of the fruit spoiled, that he accidentally got some of it on his plate, or... Or what? Or it might mean he got it on purpose. In that case, of course, it'd be murder, wouldn't it? Now, I want you to go on home to dinner, Amanda, and come back with them spiced peaches for Doc to analyze. Sheriff, you're... you're not going to get Bertie into this. She's such a frail thing, huh? Weak heart. Sorry, Amanda. If Doc finds poison in them peaches, I'm afraid we'll have to talk to her. Now, if you don't mind, Enique, there's something I want to talk over with Mandy in private. Where are you, Amanda? In the pantry, Bertie. Please come back and finish your supper. It's getting cold. Thought I'd get a little dessert together. And I've been rushed so today. Here's some cake and a few spiced peaches. Only enough out there for one helping. Here you are, dear. I'd rather have the cake, Amanda. You always were fond of spiced peaches, Bertie. I don't feel like them tonight. Just the cake. Funny how a body's taste can change. You didn't want them the night the captain was here, either. Nothing at all. Please, just give me the cake. You said you had to hurry back to the sheriff. What does he want to see you about? Nothing, Bertie. Just a few formalities about Ethan. I think maybe you'd better have some peaches. They're good for you, you know. Amanda, I don't want them. Please. Why don't you want them, Bertie? Why? Is something wrong? Don't, Amanda. Eat those peaches, Bertie, right now. Do you hear me? Get away from me, Amanda! I won't eat them! I won't! Oh, all right. All right, Matilda. What are you going to do now? Nothing. Nothing I can do, I guess. I'm sorry, Amanda. Sorry about what? You hate me, don't you? You always have. That's a clear thing to say. But it didn't matter all these years. Just hated me. Now it's different. You're afraid of me now. That's why you... Go on, Bertie. That's why you just tried to make me eat those peaches. I was just finding out how much you know about Captain Ethan's death, Bertie. You know now, don't you? Yes, I know. What are you going to do? Too late to do anything now, I guess. Would you pass me the peaches, Bertie? Amanda! Go on, give them to me. Hurry up. Here you are, Amanda. Might as well eat them myself, Bertie. No use letting them go to waste now. You know, they're mighty good. Always was proud of my spiced peaches. You're too weak to get up from the table, aren't you, Bertie? That's why you sit there long after Amanda has left on her mysterious errand. Still stunned by her bewildering decision to eat the fruit she knew was poison. It's almost an hour now since she left, and your heart is still pounding. The whole thing, the whole nightmarish day, has been almost more than you could stand. Amanda will die now, just as Captain Ethan did. Somewhere out on the road, an hour or so after finishing dinner. At nine-thirty, the storm hits again harder than ever, and you stagger weakly into the hallway to lock the front door. It's only been gone an hour now, and yet there's a new feel to the loneliness of the quiet house. It's terrible to be alone like this, isn't it, Bertie? You almost wish Amanda would come back somehow, just to stay here in the house with you until this awful night is over. Take it easy. I mustn't go too fast. Hello? Sheriff Harris, Bertie. Yes, Sheriff? Wondering what happened to Amanda. How long ago'd she leave? More than an hour. It ain't like her to be late this way. Sheriff, why did you want to see her? About that poisoned fruit, Bertie. Poisoned fruit? Captain Ethan died from eating some of her spiced peaches, Bertie. We discovered it at the post-mortem this afternoon. She knew. She knew there was no use. That's why she ate the peaches. Yes. Yes. What's that, Bertie? Nothing, Sheriff. I think you ought to search the road for Amanda. Oh, nothing to get worried about her, I think. She'll probably... No, Sheriff. Please. Go out and look for her right now. You worried, Bertie? I think, Sheriff, I think Amanda is dead. The Whistler will return in just a moment with the strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, in place of the usual message about signal gasoline, my sponsor, the Signal Oil Company, has asked me to take this time to talk with you about the Community Chest Drive. Frankly, I'm sure there's very little that needs saying. The fighting war is over, yes, but the war against misery and sickness and juvenile delinquency must go on with ever greater force. And that is where the Community Chest comes in. Four out of ten people benefit through Community Chest services, such as clinics, hospitals, maternity homes and day nurseries, children's aid, boy and girl scouts, campfire girls, the YMCA and YWCA, also aid to the handicapped, Homes for the Aged, the Salvation Army, and many other worthy institutions too numerous to mention here. And who pays for all these services? Everyone who is fortunate enough to have a penny or a dime or a dollar to spare for those who are less fortunate. And you know, there's a wonderful thing about money that you share in this way. Money that you spend on yourself brings happiness to only one person. But money that you share with the needy brings happiness to so many, including yourself. Now, back to the Whistler. Music So Amanda is dead, Bertie. At long last, after thirty years living together, Amanda is dead and you're free. You leave the phone and walk slowly toward the cellar stairs. Yes, there are things to be done, Bertie. The doctor and the sheriff know about the poison preserves now, and they'll be here soon. You're sorry about Amanda in a way. It's too bad she had to die by her own hand, knowing it was coming. It's too bad she didn't die the night Captain Ethan came for supper, the night she graciously gave the captain her dish of preserves, simply because she didn't want them. While you sat across the table from them both, paralyzed with horror at the awful mistake, unable to say anything. Yes, Bertie, it's too bad Amanda didn't die on the night you planned to kill her. Down into the cellar now, yes. Over to the preserve cabinet, Bertie, yes. To the bottom shelf and the two jars of fruit you put a special mark on the day you found they were poisoned. Yes, and now to the sink. You smash the jars with a hammer and start to pour the fruit down the drain. Your hand slips, a sharp piece of glass cuts deep into your wrist, and a stream of blood rolls down your arm. You drop everything in the sink and run up the steps to find a bandage. The sight of the blood has made you weak and dizzy. Remember the napkins, the napkins on the dining room table, quickly, Bertie. I'd better sit down for a minute. And then there's a tap on the window. You raise your eyes. Amanda, no, no Amanda, you're dead. You can't come back, you're dead. Go away Amanda, go away. And there's a cold, icy feeling around your heart and darkness. And then not even darkness, just nothing and emptiness and space. Easy, Amanda. Nothing we can do now. Well, I checked her. What is it, Doc? Fright. Her heart probably gave out when Amanda walked up to that window. If only I hadn't forgotten my key. That was just like her, to lock herself in that way. Yeah, Amanda. At least she did her last kindness, without meaning to of course. What's that, Doc? She cleared, Amanda, of any implication in Ethan's death. Bertie got that gash on her wrist while she was trying to get rid of the poisoned jars down in the cellar. I still can't believe she could have done it. I know, Amanda. It was just as hard for me, knowing how much she cared about her. There was only one way to convince you your sister Bertie was a murderess. To show you she knew that fruit was poisoned all the time. Even before she tried to give it to you the night Cap Meathen came for dinner. She was right, Amanda. Don't you see? That's why we ask you to switch a good jar for the bad one out in the pantry and try her out on it. If she took it, she'd be innocent. If she turned it down... But it wasn't fair. She must have thought I was trying to kill her. Don't you see, Amanda, it wasn't for her sake we did. It was for you. She was so weak, so helpless. But it was the easy way, Amanda, the easier way for her. Let that whistle be your signal for the Signal Oil Program, The Whistler, each Monday at 9. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, who have asked me to remind you... ...that the signal oil is not only for the signal oil company, but for the signal oil company. The signal oil company is the only company that has a signal oil. The signal oil company is the only company that has a signal oil. Brought to you by the signal oil company, who have asked me to remind you... ...to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speed, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Martha Wentworth and Peggy Webber. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen, with story by Jack Kelsey, music by Wilbur Hatch... ...and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
