The signal oil program, the Whistler. 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 radio history. And signal gasoline is tops too, tops in quality. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And signal is the famous go farther gasoline. So look for the signal circle sign in yellow and black that identifies friendly dealer-owned signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Caesar's Wife. It made a strange picture that morning. Frank Conway standing in front of the mirror in his luxurious hotel suite. Strange because Joe, his personal barber, who had just finished trimming his hair now, did nothing but stand there behind him holding a towel, watching as Conway shaved himself with an electric razor, wondering what to do with his hands, feeling as awkward and helpless on this occasion as on every one of the many other Monday morning routines. The weekly command performance at eight o'clock sharp in Conway's suite. Kirby Morton, the other man in the room, was more relaxed. After many years with Conway, he'd learned to accept anything. Joe? Yes, Mr. Morton. I wouldn't stand behind the boss like that, you make him nervous. What makes you think I'm nervous, Kirby? I don't know, woman's intuition, maybe. I just got the idea from the way you talked to Judge Faulkner yesterday. Well, forget Faulkner. Well, after all... And quit staring in the mirror, Joe. Go on over there and sit down until I'm through shaving. See, Joe? Well, you just tell me when you're ready. Now, you're hard to please, Frank. Oh? Yeah. A couple of weeks ago, you used your power to get a judge of your own elected to superior court, a masterpiece of an eggling. Today, his honor, Judge Faulkner, calls you up to say thank you, and suddenly you're allergic to telephone. I'll give his honor to be Judge Faulkner plenty of time to thank me when he's on the bench. I'm sure you will. You don't have to jump down my throat, because you're off your feed today. Okay, okay, Kirby, I'm sorry. Oh, here, Joe, take this electric razor. Sure, Mr. Conway. Now, Joe, put on a little powder, comb the hair. Not today. Mr. Conway, I got beautiful new toilet water. Joe! Yes, Mr. Conway. Maybe tomorrow morning. Yeah, tomorrow you feel better. You know, Kirby, sometimes I don't think you're very smart. Oh, looting your mouth off about me electing judges in front of Joe. Oh, he's been with you for years. He can talk, can't he? He won't talk, he worships you. Sure, sure, everybody worships me. Barbers, boot blacks, and fat-headed ward healers like Faulkner. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all the lovin' I get just because people are afraid of me or I've got something they want. Stay with me, raisins. Comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. What's that? Solomon. Oh. You ought to read him sometime. Best seller in his day. Well, I've got other things to do. Yeah, I guess you have. Well, are you gonna tell me what's eating you or not? There's nothing wrong with me. You're making it hard for me, Frank. Put yourself in my shoes. Mass agent for Mr. Big of the Rankets. Colorful character, the walking question mark. A guy who can swing elections and collect payoffs, but who can't stand the sight of blood or the feel of a razor against his face. Shut up, Kirby. And I can't say a word to the papers, can't even ask questions. Front man to a guy I don't even know. I said shut up. Okay. So I shut up? You have a right to be irritated with Kirby, haven't you, Frank? Yes. In the years he has served you, he certainly should have learned that your strange fear of sharp objects, of things that cut and scratch, is something no one asks about ever. The big secret, the thing that makes you a walking question mark, belongs to you and only one other man in the world. A few minutes later, as you and Kirby are about to settle down to work, he gets on another subject just as irritating. Frank, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you had woman trouble. You got all the symptoms. Maybe you're right, Kirby. You're a little old for that now, aren't you, Frank? Think so? Gloria's a great girl. You wouldn't want a better wife. If you ask me... I didn't ask you. Now look... Wait a minute, wait a minute. Frank, darling. Gloria, what do you mean by walking in like that? Listen to him, Kirby. You'd never know he had the top floor of this hotel practically sealed off for his private use. Now, just the same, I've told you... Just the same, darling, stop growling. I just dropped by to tell you I had a date for lunch. Oh? That's nice. Really I know. Oh, yes, I think so. Mitzi Raymond, you remember her. Used to be in the chorus with me at the Hermosa Club. You don't expect Frank to remember anything that far back, do you, Gloria? You make me feel like something out of a Florida or a sextet. Resent that for me, will you, Frank? Now kiss me. I've got to hurry. Sure. Your face is so smooth, darling. Well, see you later, honey. Wonderful girl. Yeah. What were you saying about... Forget it. I don't want to talk about it now. Come on, let's get this work cleared up. I've got a feeling I'm going to have an important date for lunch. And another thing, let those guys at the Black Cat know their take was 20% under last month. They know it already. That's all right. Tell them again. Tell them I'm very unhappy about it and the figures better be up by the first. I'll get it. Expecting someone? Yeah. We'll see about that lunch appointment. Oh, hello, Sully. Mr. Conway, I did what you said... Yes, okay, okay. Well, okay, Sully, you can talk in front of Kirby. Oh, yeah. Well, I followed Mrs. Conway like you said. She went to a little French restaurant, the Maison, something or other, in 46th Street. Go on. Well, she met someone there. Who? Oh, he was a nice looking guy in a gray suit. They took a table in the corner. I'll fill in the missing words. Thanks, Sully. I watched him... That's all I want to know. Go on, get out. Okay, Mr. Conway. Well... Yeah. What does that mean? That's Mitzi he was talking about. Used to dance in the line at the Hermosa. I can't believe that Gloria... Kirby, you're a wizard, quotations. You know the one about Caesar's wife? Huh? I ran across her just the other day. Caesar's wife should be above suspicion. What did Caesar do about it, Kirby? He left her. She got off easy, didn't she? Don't go jumping at conclusions. Yeah. Caesar didn't have much pride, Kirby. There's only one thing to do in a case like this. Now, wait a minute, Frank. You've got to give her the benefit of the doubt. I've given her enough. I've given her everything. Well, it's about time she gave something to me. Her life? No, not hers. But you don't know this guy. You aren't sure. I know what the book says. Lender unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's. That's all, Kirby. It's as simple as that. With the prologue of Caesar's wife, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. But now a word to you drivers who want to be sure you're getting the tops in quality when you buy gasoline. Just consider the fact, the only way any gasoline can put superior performance into your car is by helping your motor run more efficiently. And when your motor runs more efficiently, naturally you get better mileage. So better quality in gasoline not only means better performance, but also better mileage. That's why we're so proud of Signal's good mileage. And it's why we say to be sure of tops in gasoline quality, there are just two things to remember. One, it takes extra quality to go farther. And two, Signal is the famous go farther gasoline. Now back to the Whistler. Yes, Frank, render unto Caesar the things that are our Caesar's. Even as you ride with Kirby Morton across town to the little French restaurant on 46th Street, the gnawing suspicion inside you has given way to a dull sure feeling that there's only one solution now. One way to take care of the man who has dared to fall in love with Caesar's wife. Gloria had been so clever about it, so positive that the meetings, the casual hellos in the hotel lobby, the whispered telephone conversations were unnoticed. But Kirby is still right, Frank. You've got to be sure. You've got to see for yourself what's going on. In the restaurant, the two of you stand by the hat check stand looking back into the cozy little bar in the rear. May I help you, mrs.? We're just looking around. I have a nice table near the window. I told you we're just looking around. Why don't we, mrs.? Well, satisfied, Kirby? Why, I don't know. There they are, look at him. He's bringing her a drink from the bar. Your boy was right, he's a good looking Joe. Yeah, personality with shoulders and coat lapels to match. Look, Frank, he could be a brother. She's an only child. Oh, too bad. She's laughing. He must have said something funny. Maybe I ought to rustle up a couple of new jokes. Take it easy. Come on, come on, I've seen enough. You've got to make sure. Don't worry, Kirby. Before we're through, brother, I'll be sure. Never seen you like this before, Frank. Going to all this trouble tapping Gloria's telephone and everything. Relax, Kirby, I'm handling this personally. I want to hear just how interesting lapels can be. Okay. Guess we just sit around and wait. Mr. Say, I almost forgot. Judge Faulkner's outside waiting to see you. Well, he can keep on waiting. I'll get my tailor in here. Like I said, okay. Come in, Roberts, Mr. Conway's ready for you now. Oh, yes, yes, of course. Mr. Conway, now this will only take a minute. I just want you to slip on this coat and we'll take a quick look, eh? All right, help me into it. Yes, sir. Now, there, there, that's it. Careful of the lining. It's only basted, you know. Uh-huh. Say, what about these lapels? The lapels? Yeah. Oh, well, I have them pinned back, but they're the latest thing, Mr. Conway. I made certain that... Well, I saw some lapels about this wide and out to here. Oh? Sharp. That's the way I want them. Oh, but with this type of garment... Never mind. I know what I want. Of course, Mr. Conway, I was only trying to... Look out! What are you trying to do to me? Get away! Mr. Conway, I don't understand. Look at this pin sticking right out. The pin? What harm can a pin... Skip it and take this thing off me, do you hear? I don't want the suit thrown in an ash can. Frank, he's got a lot of money. Pay him off! Get him out of here! I don't want to hear anymore! Here. Better go, Roberts. But, but the material... Send the bill over to me. Come on. Well, all right, Mr. Kirby, though. I hate to do business this way. It's all right. See you later, Roberts. Don't worry about it. Frank, I don't get it. Well, you don't have to. But it was only a pin the poor guy didn't need. Skip it. No, no, I won't. A few days ago, it was a pair of scissors that upset. Last week was an ordinary can opener. I don't see... I thought I made it clear, Kirby. You don't have to see anything. But we're friends. I ought to know you well enough to... But you don't. Nobody knows me that well. Now, let's forget it, huh? I've got other things to attend to. Doesn't add up for me, Frank, listening in on your own wife's phone call. Shh. She's getting on the phone now. Hello? Hello, Gloria? Hello, Alan. This is it, all right? Alan, I have the money for you. Oh, swell. Look, I don't want you to think I was in a hurry for it. The money isn't important. You know that. I know. Say it. I was thinking I might go out of town for the weekend. Would it be all right with you? Oh. Is it awfully important? Well, it isn't a matter of life and death. You know how I feel, Alan. About your being here, it means so much to me. Just to know that you're around. I understand. Oh, I don't want you to get the idea that I think I own you, but... No, no. And I got you a room right here in the hotel. Look, Gloria, forget I even brought it up, huh? I'll stick around. Would you? Oh, that's pretty. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Would you? Oh, look, I've got a new room number. They moved me again. It's 1438. 1438. I'll remember. I'll be in till after six. Then I'm out for dinner at Luigi's. Fine, I'll try to meet you there if I can decorate the party we're going to, and I'll have the money for. OK. Bye, now. Bye. Dirty little doublecrosser. What is it, Franklin? Three or four thousand pounds of coal. What are they talking about? She belongs to me, Kirby. Do you understand? Me! Frank, you're all upset. You'd better talk to her. Upset? No. No, I'm not, Kirby. I'm just as calm as I'll have to be. What are you looking for? This. What the... Frank, a gun? What's got into you? You haven't touched a gun all the years I've been with you. Longer than that, Kirby. But I keep telling you this is a personal matter. Very personal. You're talking foolish. That's hoodlum stuff. Listen, if this thing has to be done, I can drop a word... You'll drop words to nobody, Kirby. Caesar's wife, do you remember? Frank, you can't do this. And you can't stop me. Now, get that judge in here. It's been an hour. He's probably gone. I don't think so. Have a look anyway. No, no, you can't talk to him now. Not when you're in this frame of mind. No? All right, Kirby, I'll get him myself. Judge and I are going to have a little talk. Come in, your honor. Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Oh, that's all right, Frank. I was perfectly comfortable. Oh, you know Kirby Morton, don't you, Judge? Oh, yes, we've met. Hello, Judge. Sit down. Sit down. I'll fix you a drink. No, no, thanks. I just dropped by to thank you for the way everything worked out. Oh, it's my pleasure, your honor. Yes, and beautifully handled, Frank. Beautifully handled. Well, we try to keep things running smooth. I figure you're going to be an asset, Judge, to the people and to me. Well, I should say so. Anything I can ever do, Frank. Yeah, I'm glad we understand one another. That cuts out a good deal of unnecessary conversation, huh? Judge, I think we should have a little celebration. Nothing fancy. Maybe a quiet dinner. Oh, delighted. I say it's your home tonight. Well, I'm sure Mrs. Faulkner would be honored. Good. About six o'clock, huh? Six. I think that can be arranged. It is arranged. And Judge? Yes? I'm going to be late. I don't quite understand. Well, you'll never have to quite understand. As far as you're concerned, Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner, I arrived at Sixth Shop. But, Frank, you're my friend. I'd do anything for you. Only if I got into any mix-ups... There'll be no mix-ups for you from now on, Judge. Just do as you're told. Oh, yes. I think I understand. Dot to Sixth. Stayed all evening. You know, Judge, you're a very smart guy. Both on and off the bench. And now, Your Honor, I think you'd better run along. I'll work things out with Mrs. Faulkner. You know the ladies. They like to plan their social activities. Oh, yes, of course. I will be running along. Good day, Mr. Morton. See you tonight, Frank. At Sixth. A judge for an alibi. Is that the way it's going to be, Frank? Yes, Kirby. That's exactly the way it's going to be. It's a good thing you found use for him so soon. What do you mean by that? It won't take long for the people to find out he's a phony, and after he's thrown out of office, he won't be much use to you. Look, Kirby, if you're trying to stop me... Oh, no, Frank. I know better than that. You've made your decision. Nothing I can say will stop him now. Yes, Frank, you've made your decision, haven't you? And you lose little time in completing the arrangements. Gloria isn't going to have any trouble slipping out. No, because you want it that way. You want her to keep her appointment at Luigi's. To be waiting for the man who will never appear. It's almost six o'clock before you're alone with Gloria. And it isn't easy to think of the brutal thing you're going to do. Gloria's so beautiful, isn't she, Frank? As she sits in the mirror combing her hair, she seems so devoted, so innocent. You're getting dressed kind of early tonight, aren't you, Gloria? Uh-huh. You don't mind if I spend a little extra time making myself beautiful for you, do you, darling? No. No, I've always wanted you to make yourself beautiful. For me. Frank, what's the matter? You sound... well, strange. Do I? Yes. Is there something bothering you? Something on your mind? Nothing that can't be cleared up, Gloria. I think that after tonight, everything will be all right again. Yes, Frank, after tonight, everything will be all right again. And you'll be careful, because it means so much to both of you, so much to the future. That's what's in your mind. You wait quietly until a little before six, and then let yourself out of the suite. The corridor outside is deserted, and you walk swiftly to the automatic elevator. You're going to have to wait a little longer. The corridor outside is deserted, and you walk swiftly to the automatic elevator. Press the button for the 14th floor. Riding down, you pat gently at the gun nestled in its holster under your coat. It's going to be quick and businesslike, isn't it, Frank? No time for a dangerous struggle. Smooth, the way you've always run things. Room 1438, you slip a passkey into the lock. Let yourself in quietly. I'd enjoy that drink if I were you, Alan. Huh? What? Go on. It's as good a way as any to die enjoying a last drink. Mr. Conway. That's right, Mr. Conway, not Mrs. What's the matter? What are you talking about? Sorry, Alan. I'm all through talking. No. No, wait. You don't know what you're doing. He stumbles and falls forward, a strange look on his face, the glass in his hand smashing into fragments on the tabletop by your side as you step back quickly. It's all over, isn't it, Frank? Quick, smooth, businesslike, just the way you figured. A few minutes later, you're out of his room and stepping into the automatic elevator again. You smile as you reach to press the button. Then you freeze, staring at the back of your hand. A long red line, Frank, a chance cut by the shattering glass Alan dropped. You stare at it horrified, because there it is, Frank, the answer to your unusual personality, your big secret, hemophilia, the weakness you've guarded so faithfully from everyone but your personal physician. Yes, Frank, the smallest cutters scratch can kill you, but you bleed to death. It's the thing that's kept you away from violence, isn't it, Frank, forced you to have things done smoothly, businesslike, because a tiny accident like this can cost your life. No, no, I'll... I'll bleed to death. I gotta get help. I gotta get help! The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Meantime, here's good news. Brand new 1947 roadmaps are now at signal service stations just in time for your summer trips. And friends, pardon my enthusiasm, but these new signal maps are without a doubt the finest I've ever seen. Prepared by Rand McNally, they have all the latest road changes and conditions, as well as many places of interest not included on ordinary maps. Jumbo in size and printed in full color, they're easy to read and have the new accordion fold easy handling. In addition, these new signal maps have handy extra features, such as enlarged sections of metropolitan areas, also a radio log showing where on the dial you'll find your favorite programs as you travel, plus a Western state's mileage chart and a list of interesting places to see. Here, Signal Oil Company has gone all out to bring you the finest roadmap obtainable. And now they're yours for the asking at any signal service station. And now, back to the Whistler. MUSIC So, the murder of the young man in the gray suit went off exactly as you planned it, Frank. And he's lying dead now on the floor of room 1438 where you left him. More than that, when the investigation is held, Judge Faulkner himself will be ready to tell the police you were at his home having dinner at the time of the killing. But one little fact, a thing you couldn't have figured on, a thing that would have made no difference to almost anyone but you, has turned it all into a nightmare. Yes, Frank, the man you killed happened to be holding a half empty drinking glass in his hand when you fired. And the flying piece of glass that cut the back of your hand can be as disastrous, as final as a bullet in the head. An hour later, back in your private suite, you can't understand why Mannheim, your private physician, is so calm. Will you hurry up, Doc? Take it easy, Frank. What do you mean, take it easy? Look, look, you've got to do something. Listen, Frank, you must try to relax. All we have to do is wait. Wait? Man, you're crazy. Listen, I know what can happen to me. I know about hemophilia. I've been reading about it all my life. But it's not going to happen. You're right, and you don't know how lucky you are. You need more than an ordinary transfusion. You're an unusual type. You need a special type of blood. And if we had to find that type in a hurry, we knew we'd never have a chance. We? Gloria and I. Gloria? She doesn't know... She does know, Frank. Because it was such an obsession with you, we never told you. It was she who... That's what I'm waiting for. Yes, this is Mannheim. What's that? Good Lord! What are you saying? Yes, I know. What's that? Frank, I... I don't know how to tell you this. Tell me what? The man Gloria had move into the hotel, the one she hired, just to be near you all the time, the one with the right blood type... Hired? Gloria hired a man? Yes. Alan Whitcomb. Oh, no. No! He's dead, Frank. Murdered. They just found him down in his room, down in 1438. Let that whistle be your signal for the Signal Oil program, The Whistler, each Monday at the same time, 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 Gerald Moore and Barbara Luddy with Willard Waterman. The Whistler was produced by Gordon T. Hughes with music by Wilbur Hatch, story by David Victor and Herbert Little, 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. Music
