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. In 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. Dear Roger. It was a strange meal they ate together that evening full of long, awkward silences, both of them making useless attempts at light conversation, trying to fill in the gaps. Ann Martin looked across at her husband. She tried to smile to make this dinner like all the others. She knew that the dread in the back of her mind had made the atmosphere tense, that Phil had sensed it somehow. At 20 minutes of seven, he put down his fork. It's no use, darling, I guess I'm just not hungry tonight. How about some coffee? No. Phil. Yes? Is something bothering you, darling? What makes you ask that? Well, I don't know, dear. You seem a little strange tonight and I just thought that... What did you think? Well, I thought you might be worried or something. I wonder what it is. What, Phil? I wonder what it is that gives a woman the power to pull something out of the air like that. I thought I could put it past you. I guess I should have known better. Please tell me. I am worried, Ann. I'm terribly worried. What's wrong? I didn't want to tell you until it was all over. It'll probably be in the papers in a few days, though. Darling, the next 10 days are going to be the most important days in our lives. But I don't understand. Number one, it looks very much like I'm going to resign as district attorney. Resign? Yes. The governor's about decided he has a job for me in Washington. Why, Phil, you mean you... Yes, United States Senator, dear. Since Senator White passed away, it's up to the governor to appoint a man to fill out White's term. Well, that's wonderful, darling. I don't know what to say. It's off the record at the moment, of course. Could be the beginning for us, Ann, or maybe not. What do you mean, maybe not? Well, there are people who don't want to see me get that appointment, Ann. Why? A lot of reasons, all of them political. Is that why you're worried, Phil? Ann, they've come to me several times now. They've tried to bribe me, buy me off, threaten me. They'll go to any lengths to ruin me unless I refuse to accept that appointment. You see, it's their necks are mine and they know it. They're powerful, Ann, gut influence. If they could find one grain of scandal in my past, or yours for that matter, they'd... What's the matter, Ann? Nothing, Phil, no. Nothing. I, uh... I told them to go ahead, Ann. I told them to do their donest. We have nothing to hide, have we? No, Phil. We have nothing to hide. And that's the second time you lied to him, isn't it, Ann? Nothing to hide. Nothing except an appointment at eight o'clock you told him was at the dressmaker's. It makes sense now, doesn't it, Ann? The phone call from Roger Henderson this afternoon, his insistence that you come to his apartment tonight on the other side of town at eight to talk over old times. So now you know why. And as you ring the bell of his apartment, you know this appointment is going to decide everything one way or the other. Well, my dear Mrs. Martin, how nice of you to be on time. Won't you come in? Thank you, Roger. You must excuse my apartment. Really a nice place, of course. Good location, excellent view of the river. Lacking only the woman's touch. Please sit down. Cigarette? I'd rather not, thanks. Oh, you. You don't smoke. You've included that with your other reforms, of course. Please get to the point, Roger. Why did you want me to come here? Don't be impatient, my dear. After all, it's been so long since I've had the pleasure of your company. Let me see. It's nine years now. Yes, nine years next month. In Switzerland, wasn't it? Seine-Marets. Really snowfall that year. You wanted me to teach you to ski. I didn't come here to reminisce. And you're married now. Fine husband. Politically ambitious, too. Tell me, Ann, does he love you as much as I did? You're being awfully cruel, Roger. That's hardly the thing for you to say. You see, Ann, for nine years now, I've thought of you. Remembered you as the cruelest woman I ever met in my life. I tried to explain it to you, Roger. You wouldn't listen. I tried to tell you I couldn't marry you. Oh, I didn't love you, that's all. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us, don't you see? It was still cruel. But it was just as hard for me. I know how you felt, but it was the only way. You did love me, Ann. You told me. I was young. I didn't know what I was doing. That's not what you said in your letters. The letters? You kept them. Of course I kept them. That's why you called me here, isn't it? Roger, where are those letters? I'm planning another trip abroad, Ann. A rather long trip. I dislike leaving loose ends behind me. You'll return them to me? Let's put it in another way. I'll leave on my trip after I give you the letters. I don't understand. Oh, dear Ann. I did hope you'd grown wiser. You want something for those letters. What is it? You're so businesslike, Ann, dear. Almost as much so as that man who came here this afternoon. A very convincing chap who deplores the coming appointment of your husband to the Senate. It's all so strange, Ann. He seemed to know about the letters, too. But Roger, you wouldn't do that, would you? It's not like you. You think too much of me. Ha ha ha. Haven't changed a bit, have you? Oh, please, Roger. It's not for myself. Believe me. It's Philip. I love him. If anything happened to him, to his career, I... What would you do? I'm interested. I don't think I could go on living. You do love him, don't you? He's the only thing in the world, Roger. I almost believe you, even though I seem to remember you telling me that once. I can't say anymore. I've tried to explain to you so many times. You'd never understand. All right, Ann. You'll get your letters. Thank you, Roger. They'll cost you $10,000. $10? In cash. To arrive here by messenger not later than 3 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. But where can I get... I managed to check your personal account. It comes to approximately $11,200.58. You should be grateful I'm generous enough to allow you the balance. But how can I explain away all that money to Phil? Don't you see I... Perhaps you'd better explain everything to him. Now, I'm sure he'll understand that the organization opposing him will pay 10 times that price. But he mustn't know, Roger. He mustn't know. All right, Roger, I'll get the money for you. Someway. With the prologue of Dear Roger, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by The Whistler. Since this is the first program of the new year, it occurred to me you might like to look in and get a little better acquainted with the organization that brings you The Whistler and those fine Signal Oil products. It all started not long after World War I, when a small group of young Westerners got together to form their own independent oil company, Signal Oil Company. In the face of what seemed overwhelming competition, those determined young men succeeded in bringing to Western motorists the first anti-knock gasoline at regular prices. Being independent themselves, they naturally sold signal gasoline only through independent service stations, just a handful of them at that time. But motorists liked signal products, liked them so well that the signal organization grew and grew until today, independent signal dealers serve seven Western states from Canada to Mexico. Now obviously, there must be good reasons why so many motorists have switched to signal. And there are. One, at signal stations you find the tops in gasoline, lubricants, and fine quality automotive accessories, backed by signal 16 year tradition of quality. And two, you enjoy more thorough, more conscientious service, because signal dealers being in business for themselves have more incentive to serve you better. And now, back to The Whistler. The Whistler. Yes, Anne. You know there's only one thing to do now. Roger must get his money. The letters must be returned and destroyed. And you must worry about explaining to Phil later. There's too much at stake, Anne. Phil's career, your marriage, everything depends on the return of those letters. At 11 the next morning, you finish typing a note. Roger, I shall be waiting for the messenger who carries this package to you to return with the papers from your collection. You insert it in the package of bills you drew from the bank an hour ago. Give it to the messenger waiting at the door. There's nothing to do now but wait. But there's no answer. The messenger doesn't return. At 6 in the evening, the doorbell rings, and you rush to the door to find Phil home early for dinner. By 9 o'clock, you're sure Roger is double crossing you. That's the one thing he wants more than money, to wreck your marriage. But it's too late in the evening to do anything. You make an excuse to Phil and go to bed. By morning, you've made a decision. After Phil is left for work, you slip his small automatic into your handbag, leave the house, and hail a taxi. It's 9 o'clock when the cab turns a corner into Roger's street and moves toward his apartment. That's the apartment right up there, lady. Riverside Arms. Yes, I know, driver. Please hurry. Got to take it easy. Look at that crowd up there clear out into the street. Why, it's in front of the apartment. What's wrong? You got me, lady. Looks like an accident or something. Hey, you, taxi. Move along. You're blocking the street. Got a fair here, officer. Get a pool down there around the corner there. What's the matter, officer? That man's been worded, ma'am. Murdered? Yeah. Move along now. Oh, wait a minute, please, wait. Who's been murdered, officer? A guy who lived in that apartment, a fellow named Roger Henderson. It's almost too much to take, Anne. The strain of yesterday, a sleepless night. Now the single terrible fact that Roger Henderson is dead, that now the letters will come to light. There's a strange dizziness in your head, a half sick feeling in your stomach. Things begin to fade. The whole world gets dark around the edges. Well, lady, where to now? Hey, where do you want to go to now, lady? If you like, we could go around by way of Park Street or even. Hey, what's the matter, lady? Something wrong? You look kind of pale, like you're going to pass out. Hey, wait. Hey, city, now another sniff of this ammonia. I know it's nasty stuff, but it's just a trick. Breathe deep now. Now, lean back and relax for a minute. You're all right. What happened? It's all right, Mrs. Martin. You just pulled a faint in that taxi cab. Where am I? In my apartment. My name's Joe Burton. How did you know my name? It's my business to know people's names. I'm a private detective. Go on. You weren't the only one this Henderson guy was blackmailing, Mrs. Martin. I've been working on him for 14 months. I got a nervous client. It seems Mr. Henderson had some of her stationary, too, all cluttered up with the wrong remarks. That's how I happened to be outside the apartment when I heard he'd been knocked off. Saw you pull up in a taxi, pull that faint, and presto, here you are. Why did you take me here? What do you want? Suspicious creature, aren't you? I have reason to be. You better let down the bars. You can use a guy like me. What do you mean? I think I can get your letters for you. Where are they? That's a funny thing, isn't it? I can get you off the spot, and I think you can do the same for me. You were in Switzerland in 1937 with Henderson, weren't you? What's that got to do with it? He was blackmailing my client at the same time. Someone was collecting for him over here. But he never told me anything about... Think back, Mrs. Martin. It's important. Believe me, this dame is as desperate as you are. Still don't trust me, huh? All right. Take a look at this. Let's see. I shall be waiting for the messenger who carries this package to you. The money? $10,000 worth. Is that all it was? Where did you get it? In the valise Henderson checked last night down at the railroad station. A pal of mine runs the check room. Go ahead, take it. Take it. It's yours, isn't it? Yes, it's mine. Do you trust me now? Yes, yes, I guess I do. Good. Now, suppose you let your hair down. Well, you said you knew where the letters were. I think so. Let's try to find them. If we fail, I'll tell you everything. I'll do anything to help you. You've simply got to understand, Mr. Burton, I must have those letters. All right. There was a small walnut nightstand in Henderson's bedroom, brass lock on the front. The cleaning woman says she's seen him put papers in there. I think they're the right ones. We'll check with her again in the morning. Why not now? The place is crawling with police. Oh, yes, of course it is. What time? 10 to your right. All right. 10 o'clock. Yes, Anne, you've got to trust him. No one else to turn to now. You arrive home to find the phone ringing. It's Phil saying he'll be working late. But it's not until after 11 when he quietly walks into the bedroom that you realize what he's working on. Wake, darling? Yes, Phil. I'm sorry I'm so late. That Henderson murder's thrown the organization into an uproar. Henderson? Yeah. Thought you might have seen it in the papers. The governor wants me to handle the case personally. Says it'll make great publicity just before the appointment. Phil, an ordinary murder case. You never thought it. That's just it. There's more to this one than meets the eye. This guy Henderson was a professional blackmailer mixed up with a wife of some political big wing. We've got to report him in a mile long. No names yet. The guy is too careful. But Phil, darling, I don't want you involved in this sort of thing. It might be dangerous. Don't you see? Forget it, Anne. This is going to be my last one. I want to make this one big. You started to tell him, Anne. Caught yourself just when you felt you couldn't hold it back any longer. Somehow you know you've got to stand it for another day, long enough to give Burton his chance. The next morning, the two of you arrive at the apartment building, wait for an opportunity to slip around through the corridor to the door with a brass nameplate on it. Mrs. Mooner, manager. A tight lift individual, Mrs. Mooner, until Burton slips her a $10 bill. Then it seems she can't say enough. Mr. Burton, I do the cleaning up there occasionally, and I'd remember a nightstand if there was one. I know it was there, Mrs. Mooner, black walnut with red plastic knobs. Wait a minute. It was on the side of the beds or the door. But that wasn't a nightstand. That was a liquor cabinet. He kept it locked all the time. Leg was loose. Mr. Henderson always told me to be careful of it. And what? Well, a repairman came around the door just yesterday. I remembered the cabinet. You gave it to him? Yes. He took it to his shop. I've got the address right here. A liquor cabinet? Who picked it up? I don't know who picked it up. The black walnut, red plastic knob. Brass lock on the front. You sure the man left this address? Let's not go through that again. I told you. Wait. Sure. Sure, that's what it is. Red done it again. The guy had red hair, didn't he? I don't know what color hair he had. I fired him last week. He's been going around town picking up furniture and selling it. Where can I find him? Just a minute. I'll write it down. Look, a redhead fellow came in here yesterday and sold you a liquor cabinet. I just talked to him. We see it around the floor anywhere? Oh, look. What about that one? Where? Right over there next to the sofa. See? Now we're getting somewhere. Come on. I'm awfully sorry. That one's not for sale. Why not? Well, it's locked. And we've got to get a key man here to open it. We need some repairs. I'll worry about that. Give me that paper knife, Mrs. Munn. Oh, here you are. Now. Wait a second. You can't do that. I'm paying for it, pal. Now. Empty. Yeah. I guess he was one jump ahead of us. Well, how much for it, pal? $20. OK, here you are. Thank you. Aren't you going to take it along? I'll send for it later. Well? What do we do now? I guess we go back to my apartment, talk for a while, start all over again. Yes, Ann. There's nothing to do now but start from the beginning again. But you know in your heart it's almost hopeless that somewhere someone has those letters and plans to use them against you. But you've made up your mind to try, to keep trying until you're sure there's no hope. An hour later, the two of you are sitting over a table in his apartment. He lights your cigarette, leans back, waiting. Now, you understand, Mrs. Martin, why you have to tell me all you know about Henderson. Yes. How's your morale? Not too high, I'm afraid. Suppose you start from the first, huh? It won't take us long. Who's that? I don't know. We're in a hurry. Get into the closet over there. Oh, my goodness. Hello, Burton. Well, Mr. Martin. Hello, D.A. Mind if I come in? I'm a little busy. It's important. What's on your mind? A lot of routine stuff. A murder mostly. A fellow named Roger Henderson. Know anything about it? No, what? I think you do. I think you killed him night before last at 11 o'clock. Funny, I swear I was with a guy named Joe Rocker at the time. So did he, until we broke him down. He spilled it right from the beginning. Put up your hands, Burton. Oh. A 38. The boys in the laboratory will be interested in this. You back on the homicide detail, D.A.? On this one I am. I was interested the minute I found out you are hired by the mob that's after my neck. They offered you a hundred grand, didn't they, Burton? You seem to know everything. Why don't you answer that one? We can do an awful lot of close guessing. Henderson was in the middle somewhere, wasn't he? Some woman he was putting the bite on, a package of letters you were after on the night you killed him. You made a mistake, though, Burton. The woman had nothing to do with me. I never saw in my life. You can tell her to come out of that closet now. What makes you think... Cigarette with lipstick in the ashtray there still burning. And another thing, unless I'm mistaken, the table here... Ah, take the phone. Recording machine in the next room, eh? You still say she isn't here? Why don't you take a look? All right. I will. Anne! Oh. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Do you hear that? Just another New Year's resolution being broken. But there's one I hope you won't break, and that's the one we made on last week's Whistler, to try, just try, signal gasoline in your car. Because seriously, friends, there are real advantages for the driver who powers his car with signal. Not only because signal is the famous go-farther gasoline, but now that the government has removed its limitations on the amount of lead used in gasoline, the quality of today's signal is at an all-time high. You see, it's this extra quality, the extra efficiency today's signal gasoline gets from your motor that gives you those quick starts, fast pickups, and smooth knock-free power. Yes, and it's the same quality features a gasoline must have for extra driving pleasure that also give you extra mileage, mileage you can measure with your speedometer. For proof, just switch to signal for a few fillings. Let the performance of your own car show you what more and more drivers are discovering. In gasoline, it takes extra quality to go farther. And signal is the famous go-farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. You move like an automaton for the next hour, Anne. Too confused and frightened to think clearly. Using Phil's instructions to leave the building by the side entrance, take a taxi home and meet him there. It's only after you arrive home and relax quietly for a while in a chair by the fireplace that your mind stops spinning. You close your eyes and try to forget everything. Phil is bending over you as you open them again. Phil. Anne, Anne, how are you? I don't know, Phil. It's been terrible. I've done an awful thing. Relax, darling. Don't try to talk. What can I say, Phil? Don't say anything. Aren't you going to ask me any questions? No, no questions. Did you find me in a murderer's apartment? In a black mail? Everything? No questions, huh? When you love someone like I love you, Anne, you don't ask questions. I've got to tell you everything, Phil. Right from the beginning. That's it, eh? Yes, that's it. I was only trying to protect you, darling. I know it's hopeless now. It's far from hopeless, Angel. We're stronger now than we ever were before. They'll never open their traps with a number one boy up on a murder charge. And that doesn't matter now, Anne. Nothing matters except you and me. Not even your career. Not even my career. Oh, I almost forgot. There was a note for you waiting in the mailbox when I got home tonight. Oh, that's strange. Look. To be delivered January 6th. Dear Anne, by the time you receive this, I will be well on my way out of the country. I promised you I'd return the letters to you. I'm sorry to say I can't return. You see, there aren't any letters. I destroyed every one of them nine years ago when I first received them. Have fun with your charming husband, Anne. It's such a short lifetime, isn't it? Signed, Roger Henderson. Let that whistle be your signal for the Signal Oil Program, The Whistler, each Monday at nine. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine quality automotive accessories. People have asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speeds, be courteous and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Loreen Tuttle and William Johnstone. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen with tonight's story by Stuart Novens, 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.
