The Signal Oil Program. Yes, 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 before 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 tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other 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 independently operated signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story, Grave Secret. From the parlor window, Harriet Eldridge watched the postman wheel his bicycle down the tree-shaded street. Saw him turn into the driveway and approach the house. She stepped out into the hallway and stopped for a moment to rearrange a bowl of dahlias on the table, then hurried to the door, a faint smile on her lips. The letters had become very important to Harriet Eldridge. Yes, very important. And she was pleased that they were arriving with such regularity. Morning, Miss Harriet. Good morning, Henry. Here's another one from Australia. Oh, from Mr. Pettis, how nice. Sure is having a big vacation for himself, ain't he? I wish I could retire, go gallivanting all over the world. Only I wouldn't go all fisting relatives. Mr. Pettis has no living relatives, Henry. He's just visiting friends. I've got relatives back in Sioux City. If I never see them again, it's okay with me. But oh, I'm sorry, Henry, what did you say? I was reading Mr. Pettis' letter. Oh, nothing. Are those photographs? Oh, yes, you know Mr. Pettis and his camera. Here, let's see. Something written on the back of this one. View of Queen Street, main thoroughfare of Brisbane. Isn't that nice, Henry? The old boy sure is getting round, ain't he? Must be having a great time. They say them Australian women are real pretty. Now, Henry. Don't see why Mr. Pettis has to go chasing off to Australia when he's got the best-looking housekeeper right here in Santa Rosa, USA. Oh, thank you, Henry. Looks like you got company. In a taxi, too. Say, that's your brother Melvin, ain't it? Yes, yes it is. Well, I'll be going long now, Miss Harriet. Bye. What? Oh, oh yeah, yes. Goodbye, Henry. You smile at Henry, watch him for a moment as he turns and walks away. Then your eyes swing back to the man who has just stepped out of the taxi, and a frown crosses your face. Moments later, he steps into the hallway, closes the door, and sets his suitcase on the floor. Hello, Harriet. I wasn't expecting you back so soon, Melvin. I know. Did everything go well? Yes, yes, everything went well. I did exactly as you said. How did you like Australia? Well, it was all right, Harriet. Have you had your lunch? There's some cold ham, potato salad from last night. Would you like that, Melvin? Yes, yes, I suppose so. Did you get seasick at all? Oh, no, no, no, I didn't. Harriet. Yes? Harriet, did everything go all right here? I mean. Oh, yes, yes. When, when did you do it? The day you left. He was dead before you stepped on the boat in San Francisco. Harriet. Yes? What did you do with Mr. Peffeth? I mean, where did you? Do you want tea or coffee, Melvin? Tea? For a moment, he stares at you, then turns and looks out the window. His eyes blink nervously. His fingers fumble at his tie. You know what he's thinking about, don't you, Harriet? He wants to know what you've done with the body of Mr. Pettis, exactly what happened on the night he left for San Francisco. Yes, he wants all the details, but you decided long ago the less Melvin knows about the affair, the better it will be. He stays in his room the greater part of the day and evening, and then shortly after eight o'clock that night, the front doorbell rings. Good evening. You must be Miss Eldridge. Why, yes. Well, I'm Valerie Hinton, a friend of Mr. Pettis. Is he in? No, no, Mr. Pettis is away in Australia. Oh, I see he hasn't notified you. He's back. He's back? Why, yes, his boat docked in San Francisco a week ago. Well, I know, I was on it too. Strange, he didn't let you know. Is he usually that way about things? No, no, he isn't. Well, I'll be in town for several days, I'm staying at the inn. Would you tell him when he arrives? Of course, Miss Hinton, I'll tell him. Good night. Melvin, Melvin. Oh, yes, Caninei? Melvin, why didn't you tell me you'd arrived in San Francisco a week ago? Oh, well I... And who is this, this Valerie Hinton? Valerie? How did you know? She was here a moment ago asking for you. Here? Why did you have to tell her you were Albert Pettis? Harriet, I was only doing what you said. You told me to use the name to establish his presence in Australia. You met this woman in Australia? Yes, yes I did. I see. And this, this week you spent in San Francisco, was that devoted to Miss Hinton? Well, at first I saw no harm in it, Harriet. She, oh, she's a wonderful person. Did you have to tell her you lived in Santa Rosa? I didn't. Oh, she must have seen the Santa Rosa postmark on the letters you sent me in Australia. Oh, believe me, Harriet, when I ran out on her in San Francisco, I never thought I'd see her again. You ran out on her? Yes, I realized it would be dangerous. What with everything that's, what's happened here. So she followed you. Oh, Melvin, don't tell me she's in love with you. Oh, I don't know. Are you in love with her? Yes. I'm sorry, Melvin. You'll have to get rid of her. Get rid of her? First thing in the morning you're going down to the inn to see her. Tell her this, this great love of yours is no more. Tell her you're already married or tell her anything, but I want her to leave town. You understand? Oh, well, I heard there must be some way. Get rid of her. She's dangerous. She can upset our entire plan. Oh, Harriet, it's, what was that? Did you hear that? Oh, yes, it's the shotters downstairs. A wind's come up. Are you sure? Well, what else could it be? I don't know. Did you think it was Mr. Pettis back from the dead? Oh, really now, Melvin. Harriet. Yes. Where is Mr. Pettis? What did you do with his body? Why won't you tell me? You needn't concern yourself about that, Melvin. I've taken care of everything. Now good night, and don't forget what I said. I don't want the Hinton woman hanging around town. The following morning you're alone in the big house. Melvin has gone down to the inn. He's promised to send Valerie Hinton away, but you wonder if he really has the courage to face her, to go through with it. The hours go by and Melvin doesn't return, and finally... Good morning, Miss Eldridge. Oh, oh, good morning. Has Mr. Pettis arrived yet? By yes. Yes, I gave him your message. He left hours ago on his way to see you. Well, that's strange. I just came from the inn. Well, I suppose he stopped somewhere on the way. May I come in? Yes, yes, of course. You've kept the face so attractive. It's charming. I suppose you've grown to care for this house as though it were your own. Yes, Mr. Pettis has always made me feel at home here. Won't you sit down with him? Thank you. You know, Miss Eldridge, I feel as though I'd known you for a long time. Mr. Pettis has spoken so much of you. Oh? Yes. I don't suppose he's told you about the way we met? No, no, he hasn't. It was in Melbourne. I happened to be glancing through the newspaper. I noticed a list in the shipping news, a list of new arrivals, and there it was. Mr. Albert Pettis. Oh? Well, of course, I dashed right over to his hotel. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Mr. Albert Pettis wasn't Mr. Pettis at all. What do you mean? Not my Mr. Pettis, that is. My Uncle Albert. It was quite a shock. I suppose I should have realized there'd probably be more than one Albert Pettis in the whole world. Oh, yes, yes, of course. So you see, it was just an accident. My meeting your Mr. Pettis. A lucky accident, wouldn't you say, Miss Eldridge? With the prologue of Grave Secret, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by The Whistler. If you like avocados, you'll probably be as surprised as I was to learn that in parts of Mexico, avocados were once used to lubricate the axles of wagons. Does that sound primitive and old-fashioned to you? Well, then, just remember this. It's almost as old-fashioned today to lubricate automobile motors with plain motor oil. What I mean is, now scientific compounds have been developed which protect motors in many ways that oil alone cannot do. That's why Signal brought out Signal Premium compounded motor oil, which combines 100% pure paraffin base with these scientific new compounds. And just what do these compounds do? Well, one compound in Signal Premium actually cleans your motor of harmful carbon, gum, and varnish. A second compound protects costly bearings from corrosion. And still, other compounds in Signal Premium help in additional ways to keep wear down and performance up. So, if you want a sweeter running motor, make your next oil change a change from old-fashioned regular motor oil. Stop at a signal station for the improved type motor oil that does so much more than just lubricate. Signal Premium compounded motor oil. It frightens you, doesn't it, Harriet? The knowledge that Valerie Hinton, the woman your brother Melvin met in Australia while he was posing as Albert Pettis, is actually the niece of the man you murdered. You wonder if their meeting was really accidental. Wonder if she suspects the truth. A thousand confused thoughts race through your mind. You were so sure Albert Pettis had no living relatives that there would be no one to spoil your little plan. Yet, here she is, sitting in the parlor of the big house, chatting gaily about her meeting with your Mr. Pettis. And then suddenly something she says stirs a flicker of hope within you. Oh no, I haven't seen Uncle Albert in years. Lost track of him completely. Not his fault, of course. After all, I'm supposed to be dead. Dead? I don't understand. During the war, I was a writer living in Java. There were several bombing raids, and in the confusion I was reported missing. Given up as dead. I suppose Uncle Albert was notified. I see. When I got out of the hospital a year ago, I tried to find some trace of Uncle Albert, but I wasn't successful. Well, I'd earned a living, you know. So I went on to Australia. Then one day I ran across his name in the shipping list. Well, you know the rest. I met your Mr. Pettis instead. And you have no idea where your uncle is? None at all. Maybe dead, for all I know. I've about given up finding him. I'm devoting all my time to writing now. That's why I've come back to the States to try my luck here. Hello, Harriet. Hello, Albert. Oh, Albert, Albert. You watch Valerie rush across the room, throw her arms around Melvin. He stares back at you over her shoulder, a bewildered, hopeless look in his eyes. You turn, hurry away. Moments later, you're upstairs in Mr. Pettis' room, searching through the closet. Then you find what you want. You take the photo album, sit on the window seat, and start turning the pages. A half hour later, you hear the front door close, and then Melvin's footsteps approaching your door. Harriet. Yes? Is she gone? Yes. She won't be back. What'd you tell her? What difference does it make what I told her? She won't be back. What are you doing? Just looking through the old album. I found what I wanted. What? Never mind. Come along, Melvin. It's almost time for your lunch. Yes. You found what you were looking for, haven't you, Harriet? A faded photograph, a young girl, and you're certain it's Valerie Hinton. She's really his niece, isn't she? At least that much of her story is the truth. But you're still a little afraid, and you know that you'll be afraid until the girl herself has left town. Late that afternoon, you step out on the front porch and wait while Melvin drives the car out of the garage. Then a taxi pulls into the driveway. Then despite the recent assurances of your weakling brother Melvin that she wouldn't be back, Valerie Hinton steps out. The shopping list drops from your hand, and your eyes are fixed on the suitcase she carries. Hello, Miss Eldridge. Oh, Miss Hinton, you're leaving. You've come to say goodbye. On the contrary, Harriet, I'm moving in. Moving in? Here? Why not? I've a perfect right to, you know. After all, it's my uncle's house, isn't it? Harriet. Yes, Melvin. What are we going to do about Valerie? There's only one thing to do. We're not going to stand by and let her ruin everything. We send her away. She'll go to the police. We're not going to send her away. But Harriet, we've... Harriet, no! You can't do that again. Have you another solution? Well, I'll have to think about it, but you must forget what you're all thinking, Harriet. I won't have it that way. Do you understand? I won't have it. Watch the road, Melvin. You hear me, Harriet? One murder is enough. Still in love with her, aren't you? Well, perhaps you're right, Melvin. Perhaps the whole matter can be solved some other way. Oh, yes. Yes, Harriet. We'll find a way. I'm sure we will. The whole plan is in danger, isn't it, Harriet? Melvin is still in love with her and you know that he can be very weak, that you alone must provide the strength to carry things through. Late that evening, after Melvin has gone to bed, you and Valerie are left alone in the library. I was looking through some things, Valerie. Papers and newspaper clippings that belonged to Mr. Pettis. Oh, I found this. How interesting. A full account of your death in Java during the war. Your name was Valerie Pettis, then? Yes, it was. I was wondering if you'd taken any steps to rectify this impression that you're no longer among the living. Of course not. You've read this article, haven't you? Yes. Before her death, Valerie Pettis was wanted by the police. That's right. So you see, we're in very much the same position, aren't we? Neither of us can go to the police or anyone. About the little secrets we've both discovered. You're quite confident? No. Just very observant, Harriet. I know exactly what's going on here. So? So. That's sufficient reason why you'll keep your secret as long as I keep mine. I see. Now, there's something else, Harriet. Uncle Albert's money. Money? Yes, I know about that too. Uncle Albert received a lot of money and jewels several years ago in inheritance. And if I know dear Uncle Albert, he's kept it right here in this house. I'm one who believes in sharing the wealth, Harriet. The money, the jewels, and this house. You intend to remain here? Yes. Because I like Santa Rosa. It's charming, quiet, and safe. Besides, I've grown very fond of Melvin. I know he's quite fond of me. So I wouldn't try anything, Harriet dear. Melvin might not like it. Good night. Well, Harriet, it's out in the open, isn't it? The contest between you and Valerie. And it's a contest you can't afford to lose. You must get Valerie out of your way. And you know how to begin, don't you, with Melvin. You must turn him against her. And the very next day, you start working on him systematically, using his love for Valerie as a wedge. Each day, you have something to drop in his ear. If Valerie goes for a long walk or to the public library, you manage to suggest to Melvin that she's keeping a rendezvous somewhere with another man. Slowly but surely, he begins to break down, to draw away from the girl. Sometimes even getting up from the dinner table and leaving her in the middle of a conversation. What's the matter with him? Melvin? Yes, why did he walk out of the room like that? Well, I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps he's tired. Tired of me, you hope? I didn't say that. As a matter of fact, Valerie, I've come to grow quite fond of you. I'm not foolish enough to believe that. On the contrary, you're foolish not to. Now, where are you going? Out. Isn't it rather late? I don't care. I've got to get outside, walk somewhere, any place. Somewhere I can think. I understand. I'll tell Melvin that you went for a walk. And you do tell Melvin, don't you, Harriet? Only in your own way. The way you've told him many times before. I don't believe you, Harriet. I don't believe you at all. I'm sorry, Melvin. I know what it must do to your pride, but there isn't any doubt. She's admitted the whole thing to me. She told you that there's someone else? Yes. There's been another man all along. You know I wouldn't lie to you, dear. She's made a fool of me. A fool! Forget it, Melvin. You've got to. Stop telling me to forget it! That's all you do. You don't want me to know anything or think about anything. Oh, Melvin, where are you going? You smile. Congratulate yourself, don't you, Harriet? Because you know you've won. That Melvin will do anything you want him to like a man who's been hypnotized. You're certain now he wounded a fear with your little plan to get rid of Valerie. Yes, you're quite pleased with the way you've handled things, aren't you? Moments later, you turn out the lights in the library and go up to your room to bed. You lie awake for a long time, waiting for Melvin to come home. Finally, you hear the front door close. You hear his footsteps on the stairs. And then, just before you drop off to sleep, you wonder why Valerie hasn't returned home. Yes? Good morning, Miss Eldridge. This is Sheriff McQuade. Sorry to be calling at this early hour. Something wrong? There's been a young woman staying at your house. Miss Hinton, yes. Yes, what about her? We found her in the woods beyond your place half hour ago. You found her? She was dead. Strangled in it. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. Strangled in it. Apparently with a rope. Oh, no, the poor child. She'd gone out for a walk last night, Sheriff. You haven't any idea? Oh, sorry. We haven't. Then... Could you come down and make the identification? Oh, oh yes, yes, of course. There isn't any doubt, actually. It will only be routine, just routine. I understand. We'll be right down, Sheriff. Sheriff. Now where did I? Oh, Melvin. Hello. Who was it, Harry? The sheriff. They found her. Valerie. You won't be bothering us anymore. You're not angry with me, are you, Harry? Did anyone see you? No. Are you certain? There was a bright moon last night. No one saw me. What about the rope or whatever you used? No one will ever find it. I hid it. All right. Harry, I... No, no, no. I'm not angry with you. Now you better get dressed and go downtown with me. And don't worry, Melvin. Everything will be all right. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Meantime, a question. Have you ever had the experience of coming upon a lot of people who were all staring in the same direction? Well, let's face it, it's only human nature to want to stop and see what's attracting them. But I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. I'm sure you've heard of the Whistler. So, of course, you want to stop and see what's attracting them. Well, by the same token, I should think that most anyone with a car would want to see what it is that has attracted so many drivers to signal gasoline. In the beginning, you know, signal gasoline was sold by only a handful of stations in southern California. signal gasoline. And what is it they prefer about signal? Well, for one thing, mileage that has made signal famous as the go-farther gasoline, and for another thing, performance, which puts more pleasure into driving. But for the complete story, you've got to let a full tankfuls of signal speak for itself. I promise you the performance of your own car will tell you much better than any words of mine why more and more drivers are switching to signal the famous go-farther gasoline. At the coroner's office is just as the sheriff said. It's simply a matter of routine, isn't it, Harriet? The two of you, Melvin's stony-eyed silence, easily mistaken for the shock grief that he appears to feel, and your own nervousness in answering the question. It's something the sheriff seems to have witnessed many times before. Finally, the identification is over, and they lead you out to another room. Sheriff, it's almost too much to believe. I know, I know. Best thing is try to forget it, Miss Eldridge. Yes, just forget it. That's what we have to do, Harriet. Forget it. Come along. I'll drive the two of you back to the house. Oh, thank you, Sheriff. That won't be necessary. I insist. Bring my car around front. Yes. Hey, tell me, Miss Eldridge, have you heard from Mr. Pettus lately? Still in Australia? Oh, yes. Yes, he is. I get an occasional letter. Fine man, isn't it, Mr. Pettus? We all miss him, you know. Sheriff, you needn't bother driving us home. It's not far enough. Oh, no, no. No trouble at all. I've got to go out there anyway. Something I have to check on. I've already sent some of my boys on ahead. What? We got a call from one of your neighbors. Might give us a lead. I don't understand. Your neighbor, Mrs. Enfield, tried to call you this morning, but it was while you were on your way down here. When she couldn't get any answers, she thought we'd better investigate. Investigate what? It, uh, it seems late last night she saw someone doing some digging out and back of your house. Digging? Yeah. There might not be anything, but then again, it might have been the killer burying the rope on his way back to the highway. Valerie Hinton was strangled, you know. Burying, burying the rope? But where, Sheriff? Your neighbor says he was digging in the dahlia bed. We thought we might do a little digging there ourselves, if you don't mind. The dahlia bed? Oh, no. What is it, Ms. Eldridge? Harriet, Harriet, you never told me. Is that where you... Yes, Melvin. Now you know. Mr. Pettis was always so fond of dahlias, I, I thought it would be appropriate. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, The Whistler, each Sunday night 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 Sarah Selby, Howard McNair, and Betty Lou Gerson. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Steve Hampton, and music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. All characters portrayed in The Whistler program are fictional. Any similarity in names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember at the same time next Sunday, another strange tale by The Whistler. This is Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
