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... 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 top two, 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, the two lives of Colby Fletcher. There was a white fury inside the man at the wheel of the black sedan, feeding down the deserted highway from Port Rialto toward East Riverton. The tight grip on the wheel made Colby Fletcher's arms ache with fatigue. He stared blankly at the white center line of the highway, unreeling under the glare of his headlights. Then he saw him, a man walking ahead on the right shoulder of the road. There was no pausing to consider, no arguing with himself. The decision was automatic and instantaneous. He glanced quickly in the rearview mirror. There was no one behind him. He pulled lightly on the wheel, angled the car off on the shoulder, farther and farther. The man was close now. He gripped the wheel tighter. His foot went down on the accelerator. Then with a split second to go, the man on the road jumped. Only clipped him. He's just stunned. I'll have to finish him off with a tire iron. Where the devil did I put that darn thing? I thought it... Oh, car. Something wrong, buddy? Yeah, glad you came by. What's the matter? Over this way, hit and run. Some guy right ahead of me in a yellow convertible. Didn't even slow down. Is he hurt, Farr? I don't know. I was just looking at my first aid kit when you drove over. Sure. Oh. He's going to be all right. He couldn't have been hit hard. Yeah. Look, I can take care of him now. Why don't you go phone the highway patrol? See if they can run down that yellow convertible. It couldn't be far. Okay, you sure that you... Oh, there's a hospital in Fort Rialdo. I'll have him there in 20 minutes. What happened? How do you feel, buddy? I don't know yet. He seemed to come right for me. Yeah, yeah. This fellow saw me. Yellow convertible. Yeah, here. Let me help you. Thanks. What's your name, mister? Morgan. Jim Morgan. I'm okay. Guess I'm pretty lucky. You sure are. Okay, pal, I'll phone the highway patrol. Sure thing. I'd still have a doc look me over if I were you. I guess I'm still in one piece. That stupid jerk, he could have killed me. It was almost like he was trying. Or he was probably drunk or something. Oh, I sure appreciate what you've done, mister. Oh, forget it. Where are you heading? Riverton. Oh, you got a place to stay? No. Well, you need some rest right now. Look, why don't I take you with me? I have a laboratory in East Riverton. There's a spare cot in it. I'll often spend the night there myself. Well, I don't know. You won't be any trouble. Well, mister, I guess I'm in no position to choose. It's a deal. Yes, it's a deal, Colby. Not quite the kind you planned on when you deliberately tried to run down the man at the highway. But close enough. The important thing is that he's agreed to spend tonight on the cot in your laboratory at East Riverton. And you realize as you talk to him that the desperation that prompted your decision at the wheel wasn't misplaced. That here at long last, you found the keystone for the arch you began to build so carefully months ago. And as you chat with Jim Morgan, driving along beside him in the night, your mind runs back over it all again, back to early spring and the little informal meeting with your wife Cynthia's father and some of his friends. On that afternoon, the foundation of the arch was laid. Yes, you remember that meeting very well, how they listened to every word you said. And that's about it, gentlemen. You may feel that it's because Ralph here, my father-in-law, has a great deal of faith in me. Well, he's been very kind. But I believe in this process. It's become my life. It can and will work. We believe it can too, my boy. And I'm happy to tell you that Mr. Adamson, Knowles, Frederick and I have agreed to put up the money to get things started. Yes, that's right. We're ready to back into the tune of $15,000 and purchase that abandoned warehouse out in East Riverton. It'll make a final effort. We're not businessmen, Colby, but if Ralph says you're okay, that's good enough. Well, this is certainly good news. There's a lot of work ahead of me. The whole process for manufacturing artificial silica is still in the experimental stage, but with a little lab where I can work all by myself... I know, son. And we're counting on you to come through for us. Colby... Yes, sir. I understand that the work is quite dangerous. Yes, Mr. Knowles, it is. I'm sure you're all happy that I'll be doing my experimenting across the bridge in East Riverton. I'll try not to waste time. As soon as the lab is ready for me to start moving things in, the work will get underway. You smiled reassuringly into their eager, gullible faces, anxious for the return your experiments will bring. You almost wish you could laugh openly at them, tell them your so-called secret formula for artificial silk is available to any qualified chemist. But for the present, you can't tell anyone, Colby, not even Cynthia, your wife. And then a few weeks later, as you arrive home... Darling, I've got a wonderful dinner. How's it coming? Oh, all right, I guess. You'll be starting work next week, won't you? Yeah. You don't seem very excited. Frankly, I'm not. Why, Colby... I don't want to sound dramatic or anything, but this business of synthesizing silk is pretty dangerous, Cynthia. At one stage in the process, the stuff's terribly explosive. If anything went wrong, if I... You never told me that. I didn't want to worry you. You see, I'm not concerned about myself. It's you, dear. If anything happened to me... Don't even think it, darling. We've got to face these things. If we could only afford some more insurance... But, dear, we have... Well, not enough. Cynthia, do you suppose you could speak to your father? But what can bother you? Well, I think it's up to him and his associates to provide proper protection for you. After all, it's their project. I see. Yes. All right, dear. When do you want me to speak to him? I start work Monday. You'd better do it tomorrow. Well, all I can say, Colby, is that I'm impressed with the laboratory. Highly impressed with my vision. I'm glad you're around. I thought you'd be glad to have a look now that I'm ready to get underway. The rest of the backers are curious. Mind if I... Not at all. Give them a full report after all that their money is. I can let them know at the luncheon meeting next week. Oh, fine. Oh, here's the toll gate. I've got two bits handy. Oh, yeah. There you are. Thanks. There, Mr. Fletcher. Hello, Barney. A little late tonight, aren't you? Add an inspection tour tonight, Barney. Here you are. Thanks. Is he keeping you busy, Barney, running back and forth to the laboratory? Yes, sir. Got to be nice to him, too. When that plank gets billed over there, Mr. Fletcher's employees will just about get this old bridge paid for, you know. Okay, Barney. Good night. Good night, Mr. Fletcher. There's a man with vision. Yeah. You know, Ralph, I've decided that's what I need. Oh, what do you mean? In this kind of business, a man has to look ahead, recognize a few facts. I tried to impress your friends with the hazardous nature of these experiments. I hope that would be enough. Apparently, it isn't. You mean about the insurance? Exactly. Cynthia mentioned it to me, told me how you felt, and, well, we agree with you. How far does that go? We'll be glad to help finance some insurance for you. Ralph, I know I can speak frankly with you. Of course. I came here to Riverton with just enough to get by on. The only thing I had was a formula for synthesizing silt. Nothing more. I'm a relatively poor man. But that shouldn't last long, Corbyn. The problem is now, Ralph. I'm going to undertake a series of very hazardous experiments. I'm going to have to insist on the proper protection for Cynthia. Frankly, I can't begin to afford it. How much is proper protection? $100,000. What? Does that seem unreasonable? It's a lot of insurance. It's your project, Ralph. If I'm going to risk my life to make money for you, it seems only fair that my wife... No, I realize that, Corbyn, but we can't pay for anything like that. Corbyn, I know you should have protection, but $100,000, they'd never go for it. Why, the premium'd be all out of reason. I see. Well then, I guess you'd better tell them I can't go ahead with the work. Well, that's hardly fair. And it's hardly fair to expect a man to undertake work like this with no protection for his wife. Can't you see that, Ralph? All I can see at the moment is Everett Adamson hitting the ceiling when I tell him you want a policy that large. He'd never go for it. Then it's your choice, Ralph. You can tell them that I won't... Wait a minute. Let's not go off half-cock, Corbyn. Well, really. I think I can go this far. I can arrange your temporary coverage. Sanders of Edinburgh will take it. It'll cover you for accidental death for the next seven days, until I can bring it up with the others at the meeting next Wednesday. For the full $100,000? Yes. Effective tomorrow morning. Then I'm fully covered for $100,000 until next Wednesday. That's right. Until next Wednesday. With the prologue of the two lives of Colby Fletcher, the Signal Oil Company is bringing you another strange story by the Whistler. But now I want to tell you a tale in which the villains were overage automobile tires, and the victims were those unfortunate drivers whose holiday trips last weekend were spoiled by tire trouble or by the kind of accidents that faulty tires can cause. You know, most of those sad endings could have been happy endings if those drivers had stopped by their signal service station and found out how little it would cost them to change to new Lee tires. For Lee prices are down. But here's the important point. Lee quality is up. With their patented double-life ray-on-cord construction, today's Lees are 25% better than pre-war. And remember, for 45 years, Lee of Concha-Hawken has made only the finest of first-line tires, so good, in fact, that 97% of the car owners using Lee tires say they will buy Lees again. What's more, your signal dealer can now arrange easy credit terms on new Lee tires. So treat yourself to a pleasant surprise. Stop by your signal service station and find out what a generous trade-in you can get for your dangerous worn-out old tires when you change to new Lee tires. And now, back to the Whistler. So it's almost over now, Colby. The planning, the promotion, the salesmanship that went into that little laboratory across the bridge in East Riverton. And it's been a terrible strain, extending back over months for everything, the reputation you carefully built, the friends you cultivated. Even your marriage to Cynthia was part of something bigger, something to do with the tragic death of a young scientist named Colby Fletcher in a laboratory explosion, of $100,000 in temporary insurance for a weeping widow who's teared, at least until after she received the money, it would be genuine. And you know she'll go along when the time comes, don't you, Colby? You know that then you can return to her, that somehow she'll understand that the two of you can live your second life somewhere over the horizon. But for the next seven days, Cynthia must know nothing. It's safer that way. I wish you'd have some more dinner, dear. I'm sorry, Cynthia. I just don't seem to be hungry. You're worrying me terribly. Now, don't be that way, darling. I can't help it, Colby. It's our work, our future, but why am I left out of it? I want to help you, Colby. I want to feel I'm part of it. I've told you a hundred times why you can't, dear. It's very dangerous and I don't want you around. Can't you understand? If you're in danger, I want to be in danger, too. There's no life for me without you, darling. There'll be a time when you can show how much you love me. I can't say any more now. What do you mean? Let's not talk about it. But, Colby, it isn't clear. Never mind now. Let's not discuss it anymore. I'm very tired and I... I suppose I have no right to ask these things, but I just want you to know it's because I love you very much. I'm sorry, darling. I shouldn't get annoyed. I'm just tired and worried and... Come on. I think we'd better turn in. Yes, that's all you can tell her now, Colby. But you know Cynthia will stand by you when the time comes. And it's not far off now. You wish fervently that there was some way of postponing it, knowing that now you face the most important problem of all, that the Arch is all but built, that the next step is to slide the keystone into place and make the structure sound and complete. Time means everything now, Colby. It has to happen fast. It's a little before noon the next day when you arrive at the little town of Port Criato, 120 miles up the coast and stop at the newspaper office. Yes, sir? Can I help you? Yes, I'd like to buy an ad in the classified section. I'll take care of it. Here, just write it out. Perhaps you can word it better. I want to hire someone, a man, unattached, not over 30, pleasant work, good salary. What kind of work? I'm afraid it's a little involved. I'd prefer to explain it to each applicant. All right. What about your address? I'll be conducting interviews here in town at the Rialto Hotel on Thursday and Friday. Rialto Hotel, interviews, Thursday and Friday. Yes. All right, fine. I'll just figure this up. What's your name, sir? Masley, Walter Masley. All right. We'll have this ad in tomorrow and the next day, Mr. Masley. I'm sure you'll get results. You hope he's right, Colby. You have six days left. Six days in which you're fully protected by the temporary insurance arrangement with Saunders of Ettenborough. Six days until the matter is taken up in detail at the meeting. And you're afraid of what might happen when the discussion centers on your $100,000 policy. You waste a trip to Port Rialto on Thursday. There's no response to the advertisement. But Friday is more encouraging. Several applicants are waiting at the Rialto Hotel. Where you're registered is Walter Masley. You interview them carefully, one by one. And where have you worked before, Adam? Any place near here? No, sir, but I've had a good deal of lab experience. I can get letters for you, Mr. Masley. Well, that shouldn't be necessary, Adam. I think the only reason I quit and came to the West Coast is because of an uncle near River... An uncle? Yes, sir. My uncle's getting along in... Never mind, Adams. I haven't time to discuss your relatives. I have other applicants waiting. But I don't understand. I'm sorry, Adams. You won't do. Four days now, Colby. And to make matters even more trying, Cynthia's beginning to bear down. But Colby, darling, how can you say you didn't leave your laboratory all day? Is there anything so amazing about that? As a matter of fact, there is. I telephoned you today, twice. You... See, here, Cynthia, I don't want you calling me at the lab. I did go out once for some materials. I guess that's when you... Tell me, Colby, why are you making such an issue of this? There's every reason. I might be in the middle of a delicate experiment. I can't afford to risk disruptions. That's all. Now, please don't discuss it any more, darling. All right, Colby. I won't call you any more if it's that important. And it is important, Colby. So important that you decide to take a step now that you'd planned for the last minute. It's going that way now. You always seem to be moving in from all sides, forcing your hand. I see, Mr. Fletcher. And is there any particular reason why you want an unlisted telephone number? Naturally, there's a reason. I'm working at my laboratory on some highly important experiments, and I can't risk being disturbed. All right, sir. Please say that this telephone number is not given out under any circumstances to anyone. Is that clear? Yes, Mr. Fletcher. We'll take care of it. When you make your last trip to Port Rialto, there's only one day left before your temporary insurance expires. You're still looking for the keystone to the arch. You haven't slept for night. It's unbearably hot as you interview the little group of candidates at the Rialto Hotel. You're edgy and nervous. Then it comes. At last, Colby, you've got it. He's about your age, naive, a little stupid, and exactly right. Well, that's it, Mr. Maisley. That's all there is to recommend me. Not much, I'll admit. No, not much, Garner, but I think you'll do. Well. The fact that you have a reputation in experimental work simply means that you'll work harder to get one. Well, that's a very generous point of view. Why not at all? I was afraid when I told you I didn't even have a relative you could write to about me that I wouldn't have a chance. Base value is good enough for me, Garner. When can you start? Well, I haven't much to clear up here in town. I could take a bus down to East River and tomorrow night. You won't have to do that. I'll pick you up. Where are you staying? Crescent Motor Court. How about seven o'clock? I'll be waiting. Fine. Oh, and in the meantime, Garner, I'd prefer you didn't discuss this with anyone. Our work has to be confidential for a while. I understand, sir. Not a word. Yes, Colby, you've made a good choice. A man who doesn't ask questions. A man without friends, no connections. A man who can take your place in the little laboratory at East Riverton so that his remains will be taken for yours after the explosion. There's little left to arrange now. On the way back, you run over the final details in your mind. You remain at the laboratory late that night, working, but not on the synthetic silk formula as they all believe. No, Colby. The hours are spent in setting up the explosives which you've kept so carefully hidden. You run the detonation wires to a spot behind your desk where it will be a simple matter to tie them to the telephone. And that's all, Colby, until tomorrow night when you bring your new assistant, Garner, onto the scene. Driving home across the toll bridge, you think about Cynthia and how she's going to react to it all. Somehow, you're not worried about her. She loves you, doesn't she, Colby? And you said just enough to her. Just enough. There'll be a time when you, when you can show how much you love me. I can't say any more now. Yes, Colby, and Cynthia will show you. Prove that she loves you no matter what you do. Even when you borrow a life. The next night at exactly seven o'clock, you keep your appointment in Port Realtor. Ah, Crescent Motor Court is the place. Ah, good evening. I'm looking for a man by the name of Garner. Hey, you want a cabin, mister? We got a vacant, sir. Oh, no, I was to meet a chap who's staying here. His name's Garner. Garner? Oh, you're Mr. Maisley. That's right. Garner went back to Chicago. Got a call from some woman. What? Yeah, that's why we got a vacancy. Go on. Of all the rotten luck. Oh, disappointed you, did he, Maisley? Spoiled some plans or something? What? Huh? Hmm. Impatient fellow. Think it was my fault. And that's what brought it on, wasn't it, Colby? That white fury that gripped you as you sped back along the deserted highway from Port Realtor. The fury that made your decision for you when you saw the man walking ahead on the right shoulder of the road. With no time left now, with the feet staring you in the face, you intended to kill him when you edged your car off the road. Planned to take a dead man to your little laboratory and push your plan through regardless. But the desperate move was the wise one, wasn't it, Colby? And the man you tried to run down is sitting beside you, grateful because he thinks you saved his life and because you've been kind enough to offer him a place to spend the night on the spare cot in the office of your laboratory. There's the place. That's right. I picked a lonely spot to work. Oh, it isn't bad. Ideal for my purpose. Inducting some sort of experiments, huh? Yeah. Nothing serious, more or less of a hobby. Here, I'll open the door. Sure break for me. I don't know where I'd have ended up tonight. No money, no friends. Oh, you've got a friend. Take yourself at home. This is neat. I tried to make it comfortable. Cots over there. If you'll excuse me a minute, I'll just check the lab. See if everything's all right. Go right ahead. But I can tell you, everything's all right with me. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. There's no mystery, however, to the story I'm about to tell you. The ever increasing swing to signal. Starting with just a handful of stations in Southern California, the signal organization has grown and grown year after year. Until today, dealer-owned signal stations serve six western states from Canada to Mexico. Obviously, folks who have tried signal, the famous go farther gasoline, must like it. Yes, they do like it. And for good reasons. Not only for signal's famous mileage, but for the thing which makes that mileage possible, the extra efficiency signal gasoline gets from your engine. And remember, extra engine efficiency means extra performance for your car, extra driving pleasure for you. That's why signal says, if it's the tops in quality you want, when you buy gasoline, there are just two things to keep in mind. One, it takes extra quality to go farther. And two, signal is the famous go farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. So you've reached the most important point of all, Colby. And the months of planning and promotion behind the little laboratory at East Riverton are about to bring you the new life you've always longed for. The wealth and ease that will come with the insurance money Cynthia will receive when the laboratory and its only occupant are blown to bits. He's in the other room now, the man you picked up on the highway. And there's only one thing left to be done. Yes, Colby, you know every move by heart as you tie the detonation wires into the telephone so that the first incoming call, the call you plan to make in a few minutes after you leave, will set off the hidden explosives. You give the last wire a final twist, drop the pliers in your pocket, and casually walk back into the other room. Well, she's all ship shaped. I hope you'll be very... wait a minute. What are you doing? Sorry, pal. I guess I would have been cozy here, but I'm not staying. That gun, what are you doing? I said I'm sorry. You've been awful nice to me, but I've got to keep moving. What? You don't need a gun. Take my car. I want it, pal. Don't that mean anything to you? I'm wanted by the police. But don't you see? Stop it. I'm going to have to put you to sleep, tie you up. I don't like to do this, but never you don't. Sorry, buddy. Got to look like a struggle. You're too nice a guy to get mixed up helping a bum like me. Goldbridge, mister. Passing your car's two bits. Oh, sure, sure. Just a second. Hey, wait a minute. Hey, Larry. Yeah? Come here. What's the matter, Barney? Better ask this guy. He's driving Kobe Fletcher's car. What are you talking about? This car's mine. Don't hand me that. Get out of there now. You can do your explaining at headquarters. I don't give a hang whether the number's unlisted or not, operator. I'm sorry, sir, but... How many times do I have to tell you this is a police call? Put me through to Kobe Fletcher at his laboratory. Very well, sir. One moment. Hurry it up. We got his car down here. I'll ring the laboratory now. What was that? Sounded like an explosion. Operator, how are you doing on that call? I'm sorry, sir. There seems to be something wrong at the other end. Let that whistle be your signal for the Signal Oil Program, the Whistler, each Wednesday at this 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 was Elliot Lewis. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen with story by Joel Malone and Harold Swanton. Music by Wilbur Hatch. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
