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. But first, an important announcement. Beginning next Wednesday, the Whistler will come to you at a new time, one half hour earlier, 7.30 Pacific Coast time. Same station, same day. Only the time will change. Remember, beginning next Wednesday, tune in the Whistler one half hour earlier. And now the Whistler's strange story. Sleep, my pretty one. A few months before, Jean would have dismissed the whole idea of having her fortune told as ridiculous. But there was a difference now. Yeah, three months ago, the smart little ring on the third finger of her left hand wasn't there. And the future was something she could take or leave alone. But she had to admit now that she was pretty much like any other girl in love. That same scientific thing somehow seemed a little unimportant. That with marriage just around the corner, things like tea room fortune tellers suddenly seemed important and exciting. So she gave in without argument when her friend Betty suggested they leave their table and visit Madame Zorga in her alcove behind the fringe red curtains in the corner. And as the old woman gazed into her crystal and rambled on, Jean found somehow she was taking it all seriously. A little too seriously. You would concentrate on the crystal with me. Max would be terribly shocked if he knew I was doing this. Please, signorina. Oh, I'm sorry. It's coming. They part now, the clouds part. I see a number. The number 13 and now the number 11. It is her date. The 13th day of the 11th month. November 13th? I gaze deeper. Again the crystal clears and I see the letter J. And now the letter V. Your initials, Jean. What? How can she? I told you. Go on, Madame Zorga. I cannot go on. But there must be more. I ever told you. The image fades. The clouds close in. The reading, she's finished. Is something wrong? Of course there is. It serves me right for falling for this hocus pocus. It's no hocus pocus, signorina. If you must know, I will tell you. There is no future for J.V. after the 13th day of November. Why, that's this week. Never mind, Betty. Here you are, Madame. I better get back to the laboratory. It's late. And don't mention this to Max, will you, dear? If he ever caught me going to fortune tellers, he'd get himself a new lab assistant and a new fiancé. Oh, sorry I'm late, darling. I had lunch with Betty and she insisted on a tea room across town. And you know how that is. There. Miss me, doctor? Oh, that's a silly question. Of course I miss you, dear. Hand me that beaker, will you? I've been up to my ears around here. Here you are. All right. Don't hide. Oh, excuse me. Where'd you pick up the coat? I don't know. Oh, I have to do something for it. May I see you a minute, Mitchell? Oh, yes, Dr. Olsen. I'll be with you in a minute, dear. All right. Mitchell, Dr. Davies tells me you want to try your drug on one of his encephalitis patients. Oh, that's right. The man's been in a coma for three weeks. I think E37 can cure him. You think? That's no basis for administering an untried drug. But it looks like he hasn't a chance otherwise. Nevertheless, as head of this institute, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse you my permission. The fact that you injected a bunch of rats with the virus of sleeping sickness. But you don't understand, doctor. Those rats had sleeping sickness with all the symptoms. Double vision, sleepiness, fever. E37 can cure you of your disease. E37 cured every last one. That doesn't mean it's safe for a human being. I'd hoped you'd remember the last hopeless patient it was tried on. How long did he last, Mitchell? Was it 10 seconds or 20? I told you I found what was wrong. I've eliminated the toxic factor. You've eliminated the toxic factor. Well, I'm glad to hear that. It's a highly constructive development. But it still is an experiment. And this institute will not experiment with human lives. I absolutely forbid you giving Davies this drug. That's final. Institute will not experiment. I couldn't help hearing it, Max. The transom. Yeah. Seems, my love, that my work for the past year has been dedicated to a batch of white rats. There ought to be a way... There is. Just one. The drug's got to be proven on a human patient. Olson knows that. For thousands of years, encephalitis has been killing human beings like dogs, and Olson says we can't afford to take a chance. No, he's thinking of the institute. I'm thinking of humanity. There's always a risk. That's how we learn. That's how we progress. That's science. Jean. Yes? Jean, will you help me? Oh, of course, darling. I'm going to test my formula. I can make the test in Olson need to never know about it. What... What kind of a test? On a human subject. What? But who can you get... Darling, listen to me. You love me. Yes, Max. You... you trust me. Trust you? You've got to have faith in me, darling. It means everything now. Of course I have faith in you, Max. I have an aunt in Dorset, Vermont. We can drive up there tonight. But I don't understand, Max. How can you make a test on a human subject? Who... Leave that to me, darling. I'm going to inject the subject with the virus, then follow it at the peak of the attack with E37. The only way I can show Olson. But you... You haven't told me who you... You said you trusted me, Jean. Did you mean it? Yes, Max. Good. Come on now. Let's start packing the equipment. Oh, careful with that vial, Jean. It'll take us days to reproduce that drug. I'm wrapping it in cotton. Oh, excuse me. There you are, Max. Well, that ought to do it. You can close up the bag. All right. Well, hold still a moment, dear. Why? What are you... Just hold still. Max. What is this? Giving you a shot. For that cold of yours. Can't have you sick in a time like this. I... I feel a little faint. I know. It always affects you this way. There. That's why I didn't warn you. I don't like objections, Max. Why did you... I told you, dear. You're cold. You'd better have faith in the doctor now. Yes. Yes, Max. Of course. Good. Feel better now? Yes. I suppose so. Well, let's go then. It's a five or six hour drive. Max. Aren't you going to leave the word where we're going? Of course not. I don't want anyone to know where we are or what we're doing until... until it's over. With the prologue of sleep, my pretty one, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. But now a word to you folks who did some traveling throughout the Pacific Coast states this summer. In addition to beautiful scenery, you'll probably notice two other things. One, that wherever you drove, you found friendly dealer-owned signal service stations. And two, that from Canada to Mexico, signal gasoline is known as the go-farther gasoline. Now, naturally, we're mighty proud of signals' good mileage. But even more so, we're proud of the thing which makes that mileage possible. I'm talking about the extra efficiency signal gasoline gets from your motor. For after all, extra motor efficiency also means more thrilling pickup, more silent responsive power, the things that make driving so much more fun. Yes, it's a fact. Extra driving pleasure is the result of the same features a gasoline must have to give you mileage, the very thing signal gasoline is famous for. That's why we say to be sure of the 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. And now back to the Whistler. Music So the decision is made, Gene. And you're on your way now to the little farmhouse in southern Vermont, where the contents of the cotton-wrapped vial in Max's release is a life-saving drug or a deadly poison. There was no alternative. You had to agree to help Max now of all times when he needs you most. But as you guide the car north through the chill November night, you can't help feeling uneasy as if something is terribly wrong. You wonder about the human subject he's so vague about, his fanatic zeal for his work, his determination that science must come before all else. You glance sidewise at him at the solid set of his jaw. What's the matter, dear? Nothing. Better keep your eye on the road. Yes. It's nice of you to do the driving. These blasted new glasses, I'm not used to them. I don't mind. Max. Yes? You're... You're sure you're quite right in this? Hmm? I mean... Well, if Dr. Olson were to find out, you'd lose your position. If I succeed, Olson won't matter much. I'll have office from every institute in the country. And if you fail? He'll matter even less. Oh! Watch out! Max, I... Good Lord, Gene, watch the road. I don't know, Max. What's the matter? That car. For a moment I... I thought I saw two of them. Now, careful. The road's pretty narrow. I can see, thank you. There's the house up ahead. Well, I'm glad the snow held off. We're in for a blizzard. There we are. There's the old pump house. The crabapple tree. And watch it, there's an old stump on the right. If you don't mind, Max, I've just driven 200 miles of ice-covered road safely. I think I can handle a country lane without advice. I'm sorry. Oh, I... Oh, I'm sorry, Max. I don't know what's the matter with me. I... I don't feel like myself. Well, well, this must be Jean. How do you do? Come in. I declare, Max, you've got mighty good taste. I've been telling you, Anna... You must be froze to the bone. Well, there's plenty of hot coffee in the kitchen. Now, make yourselves at home, folks, and I'll take your things up to your own. Oh, don't bother. And get out some extra blankets. No, she can't hear you, Jean. She's stone deaf. Best to just let her go her own way. She will anyhow. I... I'll take you to the kitchen. I'll take you to the kitchen. I'm glad we're warm again. I'm so drowsy, though. You're just tired, dear. Yeah, I guess so. Yeah, here we are. Same old ice box. I have to clear a place here at the back for the vials. You got them there? Oh, right here. Good. Max, I... I don't like to keep asking this, but... What is it? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't like to keep asking this, but... What is it? Where do you expect to find anyone with sleeping sickness around here? I don't. What? Well, it's very simple. Since there are no cases of encephalitis at my disposal, there's only one answer. To create one. Max. To inject the subject with the virus, then, after a good case is developed, E37. But we're completely isolated here. Where can you find... I found the subject, Jean. No. Now, please let it go at that, will you? Max. Look what you've done. It slipped. I'm sorry. Why did it have to be this one? E37, Jean. The cure. Every bit of it was in that box. Max, listen to me. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe you'd better forget about E37. Treat the... the patient in the ordinary way. There must be a hospital somewhere that... Don't be ridiculous. E37 was our only chance. I injected 20,000 units of sleeping sickness virus. A fatal dose. Yes, a fatal dose. We've got to start work on another batch of E37 right now. Come on. You follow Max down the dim old hallway in a daze, like a figure in a nightmare. The kind where you run slowly as if through water, trying to escape, while nameless shapes come closer and closer. And though you still refuse to believe, to recognize it, one of the shapes is fear. Here we are. Why... why at the laboratory? It used to be Aunt Agnes Pantry. She turned it into a lab for me when I was a boy. Self-defense in a way. I was always mixing chemicals in her kitchen. But Max, this... this is nothing like your laboratory in town. How can you expect us to... Sure, it's crude, but it's all we've got. Between what I brought and what's here, we can duplicate E37. With a little luck. How tired are you, Jean? I... I'm all right. Once we start the process, we can't let up for a second. Let's get to work. And so it begins, Jean. It's midnight when the two of you have straightened out the dusty laboratory, cleaned the glassware, the retorts and bunsen burners. Three in the morning when the first solution is ready to run. Keep an eye on the filtrate here. I'm gonna make another set-up. Yes, Max. The autoclave's working. Good. Well, how do you feel? Just... just tired. Of course you're tired. So am I. We'll make it though, Jean. Don't worry, we'll make it. Make a note of that, will you? Right. November 10th, 5.20 a.m. First dilution complete. One hundred... Max. What's the matter? My eyes. I... I don't know. I can't seem to focus. Sit down and rest a minute. You'll be all right. November 11th, 10.15 a.m. Fourth distillate just coming off. No, it's November 12th, dear. What? You've lost a day somewhere. Of course. I don't seem to be conscious of time anymore. Yeah. If I ever get through this, I'm gonna build a monument to black coffee. It hasn't any effect on me anymore. What time is it now? 4 p.m. It's 26 hours since we ran that solution. It ought to be right by now. You got the beaker ready? Yes. Here, Max. Sterilize. All right. Put it on the burner with you. All right. That's it. Now we wait some more. Oh, time. What a maddening dimension. You hurry. You're in a frenzy of haste. But everything has to go at its own rate. You can't hurry a fire or a chemical reaction. And while you wait for them, a virus is multiplying, increasing, threatening a brain and a life. Max! What? Please don't talk about it. Not now. Give me a cigarette, will you? Yeah, of course. Thanks. And a light. Steady. What? You're hands shaking like a leaf. I... I just can't seem to control them. Yeah. I guess I'm pretty tense, too. Equipment's obsolete. It's a gamble any way you look at it. But we've got a good chance. You've never been afraid of taking chances. Have you, Max? What do you say then? Even if it meant gambling with our happiness, your work would come first. Science comes before everything, doesn't it, Max? That's not a fair question. I think it's appropriate right now. What do you mean? I love you, Max. I'll always love you, no matter what happens. I want you to know that. Jean, this is no time to... There's still time to drop this crazy business. There's still time to give the... the patient one of the standard treatments. What are you talking about? Oh, Max. Let me call Dr. Olson. I see. You're giving up, huh? It's not that, Max. Well, I'm not giving up. We're going through with this. If my experiment's successful, I want to know that E37 alone is responsible. And if not... Go on, Max. What if it isn't? Then I'll just have to face the music. I see. Where are you going? To get some more coffee. You're glad the telephone's at the other end of the house, that you'll have a chance to get the call through to Dr. Olson in Boston before Max has a chance to stop you. You wait for the operator to answer, trying to fit the words together in a way that will tell Olson the story without going too hard on Max. There's no other explanation. You're going to have to wait for the operator to answer the call. There's no other explanation, is there, Jean? The dull pain in the back of your head, the nervous disturbance, the deadly fatigue, the double vision can mean only one thing. Why, Jean. Oh, Aunt Agnes. You're not trying to make a phone call, are you? Well, the lines have been down for hours. Can't you see? Oh, no. Oh, you look all worn out, child, and no wonder. The way you two been working. Wait. Listen to me, Aunt Agnes. Come rest, child. Listen to me. Never see such dark circles under anybody's eyes. Agnes, listen. Why are you shaking me like that? What's the matter, child? I'll write a note. There's paper and pencil by the phone. Watch, Aunt Agnes. Watch. Eh? What are you writing? Oh, Max trying dangerous experiments. That's right. Stop him. It's life and death. It's my life and my death. Stop him, my land, child. I wouldn't dream of such a thing. Life and death. Even if it interfered with his doings. Not even after the time he and I blew up the side of the barn. Please. The rest of the family was all expecting. It means my life. My life. But not me. That's science, you know. Max says that's the way we learn. Jean, wait. Now, why did she run off like that? You run blindly out of the house. Down the snow-covered path to the shed where you left the car. There's only one way now, Jean. You've got to get away to leave him once and for all. You've decided now that he's a man without a heart. That you were foolish to have fallen in love with him. And there's a stabbing cold feeling inside that tells you you've discovered it too late. And as you fumble for the car keys, the nightmare you've lived through for the past few days comes back in a rush. I'll inject a subject with the virus, and after a good case has developed, E37. How long did the patient last, Mitchell? Was it 10 seconds or 20? Hold still, dear. Giving you a shot for that cold of yours. Double vision, sleepiness, fever. That car. I saw two of them. 20,000 units of virus. The drug is our only chance. I don't know what's the matter with me. I don't feel like myself. There's no future for JV. After the 13th day of November. No future, no future. Why don't you start? Please, please. Jean, what on earth are you doing out here? Where do you think you're going? Max, I thought if I could reach Dr. Olson. I wanted to get someone some help. We settled that once. There's no help outside, only here. Where's the oxalate? On the top shelf of the cupboard. I looked there. You'd better come and show me. All right, Max. I'll come. What time is it, Jean? About nine. The hypodermic and the sterilizer? No. Put it in, we're almost ready. Now, where are the notes? Note? Oh, here. Let's see. Virus injected Monday, November 10th. Disease approaches critical state. Pretty close. Better make the final entry, Jean. Or next to final, while I finish here. All right. Yes, Max. Preparing to administer anti-encephalitic drug E37 subject. Work commenced on drug at 1 a.m. November 10th. Completed at 9 p.m. November 12th. Your hand trembles as you write. As you watch Max rise, walk slowly to the sterilizer, lift the lid and remove the hypodermic. There's no future for JV after the 13th day of November. You fight it out of your mind. Struggle against the fear that grips you as Max turns, hypodermic in hand. Everything begins to waver before your eyes. You drop the journal. I'll be over in a minute, Jean. See, I simply put the needle in the solution, release the plunger. And now... No. No, Max. Jean. Please. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Meantime, a word to you drivers. You've heard me tell how signal has grown from a mere handful of dealers in Southern California to almost 2,000 signal stations serving six Western states from Canada to Mexico. Well, recently I was going through some letters from you listeners to see if I could put my finger on the answer for the ever increasing preference for signal. A driver from Long Beach wrote, Since switching to signal I've been checking my mileage and my car does go farther with signal. Another wrote, My 1939 Chrysler is still purring like a kitten on signal gasoline. And still another said, Whether I drive in for a tank full of gas or air for the tires, signal dealers give me the same courteous treatment every time. Well, there you have it. Some drivers praise the conscientious service at dealer-owned signal stations. Others rave about the quality of signal products. I have a hunch it's a combination of both. But for the best answer, why don't you try a tank full of signal gasoline? My bet is that once you do, you too will want to join the ever increasing number of drivers who are switching to signal. And now back to the Whistler. Music It was too much, Jean, the sight of Max standing there with a needle. Gradually you become aware of the room you're in. A pretty bright room with organic curtains and the green leaves of an apple tree showing outside the window. The sun is pouring in now and suddenly you realize it's afternoon sun. I think she's coming around. What? I say I think she's... No, never mind, Aunt Agnes. Well, it's about time. Max. You've slept the clock round, young lady. It's after three. Max, it's all over. I'm all right. Yes, it's over, darling. You're all right. And we've won. Oh, there's the doorbell, Aunt Agnes. What? The doorbell. Doorbell. Oh, doorbell. I expect it's the judge. I'll sit him down in the parlor. Good. I told the judge to drop by on his way home from town, dear. Thought we might make an appointment. That is, if you don't mind changing your name on an unlucky day like the 13th. Change my name? My initials on the... Unless you'd rather... No, Max, you haven't told me. What happened? What did you do? Well, if you hadn't fainted when you did, you'd have seen. Within five minutes after I took that injection, I was feeling better. You? And four hours later, there wasn't a trace of sleeping sickness in my blood. Oh, Max. Max, darling. That's science, darling. You risk a little to gain a lot. The whistle. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, The Whistler, which will come to you half an hour earlier, beginning next Wednesday at 7.30 Pacific Coast time. The Whistler is brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality automotive accessories. Featured in tonight's story were Gene Bates and Elliot Lewis. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen with story by Ruth Bourne, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
