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, the choice. When the door of his office opened, Mark Fallon didn't have to turn away from the window to know that it was Harry Cheng coming in for more of the vouchers. It had happened so often during the past five weeks that the sound of Cheng's shuffling walk with sandpaper unmarked nerves. So instead of turning, he sat for a moment looking out through the gold lettering that spelled Wu Feng, importing company on the window, looking down onto Grant Avenue where they were putting up the first decorations for the Chinese New Year celebration. Then when he was sure he had enough control to make his approach seem casual, he idly swung in his chair and faced the little bookkeeper. Oh, hello, Cheng. You back again? Yes. Mr. Wu said I could check some items on one of the files if it's all right with you. Sure. It's Mr. Wu's orders. I'm only the office manager here. But I'm afraid Sam's is locked up for the night. Then perhaps you'd rather I waited till morning. Oh, makes no difference to me. I'll get Samuel. Sammy, bring in the keys, will you? Harry Cheng wants to get something out of the files. Yeah. You'll be right in. Thank you. Forget it. By the way, how's your research coming? Research? Oh, sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But everybody knows you're going through the files systematically and everybody knows why. My brother didn't steal that money from the company, Mr. Fallon. If I can find the evidence, that will get him out. Yeah, sure. I know. Only the jury said he was guilty, Cheng. Oh, come on in, Samuel. Yeah. Oh, hello, Cheng. More files? If you please. Oh, sure. Yeah, let me see now. You want the Carter file. How did you know that, Mr. Samuels? I... Oh, Samuel's just happened to notice that the last file you had out was Carson, C-A-R-S, C-A-R-T. Carter would be next. Yeah, yeah. That's it. Unless you're taking the skipping around the alphabet. I didn't think of skipping around. But perhaps it is a good idea, if you don't mind. Huh? Well, no. No, we don't mind. What file do you want? I think I will start on Randall. Randall. Well, sure. Sure. Well, Samuel, let's get them Randall. Yeah, right away. Well, here we are. Will that do it? Yes. Thank you. Thank you both. Good night. Good night, Cheng. You sap, you stupid. Why did you have to do that for? Do what? What did I do? Why did you have to suggest that he start skipping around? So what? He took Randall, didn't he? The law of airbending is a law of airbending. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He's a man of the law. He took Randall, didn't he? Law of averages will take care of it. Sure, sure. And the same laws that will make him put his hands in that phony McAllister file any day. You may want to change places with Harry Cheng's brother in prison, but I don't. Mark, you're making something out of nothing. Tell you I fixed those books so they'll never spot anything. They got by the trial investigation, didn't they? Yeah, but they won't get by Harry Cheng. I'll give you odds on that. Forget the odds. On this deal, nothing will do but assure a thing. Okay, okay. But there's no place to talk about it. Somebody's liable to walk in. Maybe tonight we can... Yeah, tonight. We talk tonight. If we don't want to wind up with a number for a name, we better talk fast. Yes, Mark, the time for fast talking has come sooner than you expected. But then you should have known you were in for trouble the day Harry Cheng started going through those records. When it was A, B, C, you had time before he'd reached Samuel's forgeries and the McAllister account. But now it's almost as if you could feel his fingers around your throat already. And something else you've noted. Samuel's is calm about it. Almost too calm. And when he comes across the hall to your apartment later that evening, he brings his girlfriend, Lena, with him. Well, Mark, darling, what is this? No drink, no bright saying? Don't mind him, Lena. He just knows his own scotch better than we do. I had a couple of drinks before you came. I didn't know this was going to be a social evening. And that takes care of little Lena. Excess baggage again. Forget it. We didn't have anything important to talk about anyhow. No, not a thing. Well, how about it? Do I get thrown out or do I get another drink? You get another drink, Sam? Excuse me. Yeah? I come to talk to Samuel's. Samuel's? You got the wrong place. He lives across the hall. I rung across the hall. He ain't there. I knew you was his pal. I want to talk to him. Well, he might drop by later. What was it about? I'll talk to him. You know, Radigan ain't going to like being stalled. Radigan? Who's he? Uh-oh. I'm afraid Sammy's gambling debts are showing. Uh-huh. He's been gambling again, has he? So that's it. I'll just come in and wait for him. You're not invited. I'm coming in. Listen, you two-bit bull-guard, if you like your teeth where they are, get your foot out of that door. I'm coming in. Okay, you... Mark! Well, Mark, darling. The things I didn't know about you till now. We'll forget it. Don't you know I don't want to forget it, Mark? Mark, what is this? What happened? This is it, Samuel. This is too much. Now we got petty mobsters hanging around. Okay, how much did you lose this time? Six thousand. But I don't have to answer to you for everything I do. Look, we got enough trouble with Cheng without Radigan snooping around too. You're going to pay off that debt if it takes every cent you got. But suppose he hasn't got any, Mark. Then he'll get it and get it quick. This is all very funny, standing around listening to you tell me what I'm going to do, Mark. Yeah? But there's something I've been meaning to tell you. And now's as good a time as any. If Harry Cheng happens to get lucky with those books, do you think I was sapped enough to leave them so they'd point at me? Wait a minute. What are you getting at, Samuel? I mean, while I was doing the pen work. It was easy enough to put your old pay on every one of the vouchers. And until I decide otherwise, I think you and I better go right on being the very best of friends. With the prologue of tonight's story, The Choice, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by The Whistler. Now in place of a message about signal gasoline usually heard at this time on The Whistler, Signal Oil Company has asked me to devote this time tonight to something mighty close to your heart and your home. Have you ever asked yourself what you would do if infantile paralysis should strike someone in your home? The treatment is expensive and long. An iron lung costs $1,300. Fortunately, however, you wouldn't have to worry about cost. For today, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis guarantees every victim of this dread disease, regardless of age, race, creed, or color, the immediate scientific care which alone can prevent tragic crippling. And where does the Foundation get the millions of dollars needed for this great mission of mercy? Why, from the dimes that you contribute during the annual March of Dimes, which starts day after tomorrow. When you consider there were over 24,000 victims of infantile paralysis last year, you can realize how much every dime counts. So don't just say, yes, I'll have to do something about that. Get out an envelope tonight. Address it to March of Dimes headquarters in your city. Drop in a few dimes or a few dollars, whatever you can spare. Then mail it tomorrow morning. Infantile paralysis strikes suddenly. Let us be as quick in our cooperation to stamp it out. And now back to the Whistler. Well, Mark, there it is. The phony McAllister account, the trial, Harry Cheng's game of ABCs. Your friend Samuel's happy-go-lucky ways and your name on every one of the forged vouchers. Yes, you can add it all up, but it's one account you'll have trouble balancing. But at least you're sure of one thing. You've got to see that Harry Cheng never gets to the M file. And you've got to watch Samuel's at the same time. That means you'll need help. And an hour after Lena and Samuel's have gone, you've made a date for yourself. Well, here's looking at you, Lena. And do you like what you see? I'm not throwing any rocks, am I? You've been known to. By the way, Lena, you made a remark tonight about Samuel's not being able to pay off that debt to Rattigan. Oh, so we're not going to talk business, eh? I'm sorry. Skip it if you want to. I was just curious. Well, of course I wouldn't know Sammy's personal affairs, but... Oh, there was the cutest little bracelet I wanted. And then we... we haven't been going many places lately. Well, we, uh... we ought to do something about that. You probably could go places with the right guy. And, uh, you're the kind of a girl who should have cute little bracelets. Well, tell me more. Oh, it's, uh, just that if we were real nice and helpful to each other, Lena, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. You know something, Mark? I'll drink to that. You were right, Mark. You've always felt you could count on Lena if the need ever came. So for the next few days you're thoughtful and attentive, and you begin to see her part in a plan that's taking shape in your mind. But then something happens, suddenly, that makes you glad you were prepared. It's New Year, Chinese New Year, of course, and you're alone in the office when Inspector Morrison of the Chinatown squad drops in. Well, sit down, won't you, Inspector? What can I do for you? Well, nothing serious. I wondered how well you knew Harry Chang. Oh, well, as well as you get to know anybody who works in the same company with you. Uh-huh. Don't know anything about his personal business, eh? Finances and so forth? No. I wouldn't know about that. What is it? Seems Harry Chang's been going around Chinatown trying to borrow money. Six thousand dollars. Six thousand? Yeah. Mean anything to you? No. No, Inspector, it doesn't mean a thing. But it does mean something, doesn't it, Mark? Yes. Six thousand. It couldn't be coincidence that it's exactly the same amount Samuel owes Radigan. He's going to sell you down the river for the six thousand that Chang is canvassing Chinatown to borrow. The minute the Inspector leaves, you rush to the filing cabinet. Locked. You break into Samuel's desk. And a few seconds later... Lewis, Wing, Lyons, Mayberry, McAfee... That's what I thought. Oh, Mark. Thought you were down at the office. Come in. All right, Samuels. Hand it over. What are you talking about? Hand what over? A file! What do you say, what file? Wait a minute, Mark. It's gone? Stop stalling. Hand it over. Mark, sir, help me. You took it, Samuels. Come on. Give Mark for the love of him. I haven't got it. Believe me, I haven't got it. You've already turned it over to Chang. I ought to kill you for this, Samuels. If I don't get that file back, maybe I will. Stick around, Samuels. We'll have a little talk when I get back. Where are you going? Never mind. But you're not here when I get back, I'll... Oh. Hello, Inspector. Hello, Fallon. You again? Samuels around? Yeah. Yeah, he's here, Inspector. Thought he might know something about our friend Chang. Yeah. Yeah, he might have thought, Inspector. Why don't you ask him? I'm sure Sammy will know how to answer your questions, even if I'm not around. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. This is a surprise, Mr. Fallon. I hope you will excuse the state of my room. Sure, it's okay, Chang. Matter of fact, I really thought you'd be out celebrating New Year's. I have work to do. Yeah? Oh, I see you're still working on the Randall vouchers. You need them at the office? No, not these, Chang, but I... I was looking for a few of our other old accounts. I thought you might possibly have them here. The, uh, the McAllister file, for one. No, I don't have it, Mr. Fallon. So I see. Well, uh... What's that? Firecrackers. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. The children have been dropping them off the roof of the building across the way. You can see them up there now. Yeah. See, that's kind of a dangerous place for kids, isn't it? Well, they try to keep them off, but they get up by the fire escape in the rear. Children have no fear of danger. No, I guess they don't. Well, happy New Year to you, Chang. See you at the office in the morning. Will you see Chang at the office in the morning, Mark? You didn't find the McAllister vouchers, but you found something else as you stood staring at the roof across the way, the sharp noise of the firecrackers popping in your ear. The plan isn't hazy in your mind anymore, is it? You phone Lena from the cigar store on the corner, and ten minutes later, you drive into the basement garage of your apartment house. You carefully loosen the valve in one of your tires. That's the first step. The second comes at exactly 9.25, when you're back in the basement knocking on the janitor's door. Oh, hello, Mr. Fallon. Hello, Charlie. Say, I hate to disturb you at this hour, but how'd you like to make a couple of bucks? Oh, it's me. Never turned down a chance to pick up an honest buck. Well, relatively, Charlie, relatively. I just want you to change a tire for me. Sure, sure thing, Mr. Fallon. I'm going back up to my apartment here, the keys. If the lock gives you some trouble, just work it around a bit, huh? Sure thing. I'll bring them up to you in about half an hour, okay? No rush at all, Charlie. Take your time. Take your time. Yes, by all means. Take your time. You're counting on that, aren't you, Mark? About 20 minutes of Charlie's time. 20 minutes in the garage and away from his apartment. You watch him as he disappears down the corridor, and then you slip through his apartment and out into the court behind the building. You glance at your watch, exactly 9.30, and Lena picks you up right on schedule. Good girl, Lena. Did you bring the gun? Yes. All right, slide over. I'll be in the driver's seat. Yes, Mark, you're in the driver's seat now, and you're going to make sure you stay there. You head up California Street over the hill and down toward Chinatown. Then while Lena waits in the car, you thread your way through the crowds on Grant Avenue, more conscious of the cold steel in your pocket than you are of the dancing dragon and the firecrackers and the confetti. You have no trouble locating the fire escape leading to the roof across from Chang. Then you're looking across the gun site, across the 30 yards that separate you from the figure bent over the books at the desk. Your grip is steady, and you squeeze the trigger slowly, slowly. Come in. I brought your keys, Mr. Fallon. All set. You finished already, huh? You made it fast, Charlie. I would have been faster, but I had trouble with the lock, like you said. Well, thanks a lot. Here you are, Charlie. Hey, this is five bucks, Mr. Fallon. I know. Keep it. You did me a big favor. Oh, that's darn nice of you. Good night. Good night, Charlie. Hello? Lena? Yeah. We're in, baby. He just brought back the keys. I didn't go out through the lobby. I didn't go out through the garage. In fact, I didn't go out at all. We're completely in the clear. In the clear. And it was so simple. Just an extra loud firecracker in the New Year's celebration. Just a slug of lead screaming across 30 yards, and a figure slumped over a desk. But the next morning, when you step into the hall, you know something is wrong. The hall seems to be swarming with policemen, and standing before the open door of Samuel's apartment, you recognize Inspector Morrison. Oh, good morning, Inspector. What's going on? Oh, morning, Fallon. I was just coming over to see you. See me? Why? About a friend of yours. Oh, are you still checking up on Harry Chang? No, this time it's about Samuel. Samuel? What about him? He was murdered last night. What? What did you say? He's dead, Fallon. I thought you might want to come down to headquarters and talk about it a little while. Well, look, I don't know anything about him. You're a pal of his, Fallon. You could give us some idea who might have reason to get him. Wait a minute. Radigan. Who? Sure, Inspector. I might be able to tell you who had reason to get him. Shall we get down to headquarters now? So, Samuel's is dead, Mark. And suddenly you realize that this has worked out better than you'd hoped. With Samuel's out of the way, you've got that sure thing you've wanted so long. So naturally, you're more than willing to tell the Inspector the whole story of Samuel gambling debt. And the baby-faced hoodlum who was out looking for him. In fact, you're so busy giving the Inspector the Inspector's name, you're so busy giving him the name of the baby-faced hoodlum and you're so busy giving the Inspector the information he wants that you're entirely unprepared for the question he asks you when you reach the Hall of Justice. Well, that's all very interesting. Now, that reminds me. I came to Samuel's door yesterday, too. What were you two arguing about? Arguing? Oh, oh, I... Yeah, I guess we were a little sore at each other. I don't even remember what it was about now. I thought you two might have been arguing about this guy, Harry Chang. Chang? What's he got to do with this? Suppose we ask him. Yes, Inspector. Send in Harry Chang. Yes, sir. Chang. Harry Chang. Guess I forgot to tell you, Falham. That's another interesting angle of this case. Seems that somebody tried to bump Chang off last night, too. Yeah. Oh, come in, Mr. Chang. Be with me in a minute. Have a seat. Thank you, Inspector. Good morning, Mr. Falham. Hello, Chang. I just heard about your accident last night. Your head...bad? No. It's nothing. Anyhow, as I was saying, Falham, seems that last night between 9.30 and 10 o'clock, about the same time Samuel was murdered, somebody tried to kill Mr. Chang. Now, did I remember to ask you where you were at that time last night, Falham? I, uh... Well, go on, Falham. We're listening. That's right, Mark. We're listening. Where were you last night between 9.30 and 10? It's not an easy choice to make, Mark. Your fine alibi with a janitor plants you in your apartment right across the hall from Samuel, and right at the time he was murdered. But there's only one way to prove you were not there, and that's to confess to the attempt on the life of Harry Chang. That's attempted murder, one to five years in prison. But isn't that a lot better than murder in the gas chamber? It's up to you, Mark. Name your own poison. Well, how about it, Falham? I haven't heard you say anything yet. I, uh... was out last night. I see. Out. That's not an awfully good start, Falham. We already checked your apartment house. You didn't leave it all night. Use your head, Inspector. Samuel was my friend. You're not gonna sew me up for his murder. I was outside that door for a long time yesterday afternoon, Falham. I couldn't catch it all, but it seems... somebody was going to kill somebody. All right, so maybe I did threaten him, but I tell you, I was out of the apartment when he was killed, and I can prove it. I can show you how I sneaked out of the building without being seen. And I can produce a witness to testify that I was out of the building. Sneaked out, Falham? Why? Well, I, uh... Go on. You don't leave me much choice, Inspector, but you might as well have it straight. I was the guy who took the shot at Harry Chang last night. And if you got the slug, I can produce the gun to match it. Will that convince you? I'd say it was a step in the right direction. Where do we start looking for the gun? You can get it from Lena Merrick, 384 Palmer, Apartment 3. But you better break it to her gently, Inspector. I don't think she's going to like the way our beautiful friendship went sour. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Has your car been acting different lately? Well, it has if you're a Signal customer, because Signal Gasoline is now better, much better, than even a few weeks ago. You see, the ingredient necessary for higher octane in gasoline has become more plentiful. So the octane rating of Signal Gasoline has been raised. Not just a little, mind you, but a lot. Which means you'll now enjoy even smoother, knock-free power as you take those steep hills in high. Yes, you're going to like the new driving pleasure in today's improved Signal Gasoline. And you're going to like the mileage, too. After all, you know, a gasoline that gets more efficiency from your motor naturally gets more mileage from each gallon. That's why we say in gasoline it takes extra quality to go farther. And Signal is the famous go-farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. Well, Mark, the books are in balance at last. There was really only one choice you could make, wasn't there? Too bad to tear down that beautiful alibi of yours, but it's going to keep you out of the gas chamber. Of course, you wonder if it might have been better just to let Harry Cheng go on with his game of A, B, C. But it's too late to worry about it. All you can do is dictate your confession to the police stenographer and wait for the inspector to get back from Lena's with the evidence. Come on in, Cheng. We'll need you, too. Well, Inspector, was I right? Did you get the gun? Yeah, we got it. And we stopped by Cheng's place to pick up some files he had. I think they're going to help clear up a lot of things. I get it. I should have expected that, I suppose. You're going to pin that on me, too? That's right. Not that it's going to make any difference. Well, at least I convinced you I wasn't at the apartment, so I couldn't have killed Samuels. Who said Samuels was killed in his apartment, Fallon? What? You see, he went over to Cheng's last night to deliver some important files. Samuels was the one sitting in Cheng's desk when you fired that shot. And you didn't miss. Okay, Cheng, you can take off that phony bandage now. 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, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality automotive accessories. Signal has 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 Howard Duff and Jack Petruzzi. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen with story by Adrian Jean D'Eau, 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.
