And now stay tuned for the program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other west coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil Program, The Whistler. Signal, the famous go-farther gasoline, invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by The Whistler. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies 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. And now for the signal oil company, The Whistler's strange story, Burden of Guilt. It's a big comfortable room, the library and the Ramirez mansion in the hills beyond San Diego. Everything about it, from its paneled walls to the high beam ceiling and back again to the pegged oak floors, reflects permanence, solid security. And this early afternoon with a steady winter rain falling against its windows, the Ramirez library offers warmth and welcome to the three people seated before its great fireplace. Manuel Ramirez, one of the world's wealthiest men, his wife Helen and his secretary Warren Coates. On the surface, it's an altogether pleasant scene. Their talk is concerned itself chiefly with trips because each of them plans one. But for one of these three, the trip is more than just a trip. It's actually a well planned long anticipated escape. Manuel Ramirez rises from his lounge chair, goes to the near window and studies the rain for a long moment. And then facing his wife and secretary again, he speaks. Warren, this rain, you think it will cancel your flight? Not according to the airport. They say it's just a local storm. It should be clear but soon after the takeoff. Well, that is good, I guess. You know, I still cannot convince myself that you are actually leaving me. I've known for weeks now, but now that the day is at hand, I cannot believe it. I don't think I quite believe it myself, Senora Ramirez. But this ticket in my pocket says it's true. I'll miss you, sir. And Senora. Thank you, my boy. We shall miss you, too. Hey, Helen? Of course we will. Everyone always says it at a time like this, but it really won't be the same without you. Oh, thank you. It's been a wonderful association these past five years. I still wonder if I've made the right decision. One can never be sure, my boy. But you have a good mind. You say yourself this decision was not made in haste, so you take your chances. Everyone takes chances at one time or another, Warren. And always you learn something. Well, I'm certainly willing to learn. But all this talk of my trip, how about you two, Senora Ramirez? You still taking off for Palo Paraiso next week? Yes, if the weather is right. Before long, we shall be soaking up the sun on the beach at Del Maro. And I'll be trying to explain to Gabriele and Donna why you are not there. Well, the explanation's in good hands, I'm sure. Now I've got to go. Still got some packing to do, you know. Eh, well, if you must, you know best. Manuel, the package, remember? Oh, yes, yes, of course, my dear. Here, Warren, for you. A small token of my appreciation. Senora, I'm very grateful. So am I, Warren. You run along now. We are both embarrassed. You open it later, yes? Senora, Senora, I'll never forget you. You've given me so much. I'll never, never forget. No, you'll never forget Manuel Ramirez, will you, Warren? You played your farewell scene very well. And now you're in your car opening the small token of Ramirez's appreciation. It's a watch, handsome, expensive, and engraved. To Warren, a faithful friend and assistant, M. Ramirez. But unknowingly, he's given you more than that, hasn't he, Warren? Slowly, systematically, through those years, he's also given you $50,000 that he doesn't know about, does he? And he won't know it, ever. You've manipulated things nicely, perfectly. He's never questioned your integrity, has always written checks or advanced cash without question. Later in your apartment, you pack the few remaining items you'll need. The $50,000 you've had changed into large bills are now resting in a large manila envelope in your coat pocket. And then as you look around for a last-minute check of the apartment. Why, Senora Ramirez. Hello again, Mr. Coates. May I come in? Of course. Yes, do come in. Thank you. You were just leaving? Oh, yes. Yes, I was. Good. Then I've caught you just in time. Is something wrong, Senora? Nothing that can't be fixed, Mr. Coates. And you're pretty good at fixing things, aren't you, Mr. Coates? I don't believe I understand. You asked me if something is wrong. Suppose I say that something is $50,000 wrong. Would you understand that? No, frankly, I wouldn't. I think you would, Mr. Coates. I think you do. And you needn't look at your shiny new watch for the time. You're not going anywhere. Suppose you tell me what this is all about, Senora Ramirez. I'd be glad to. And from now on, let's make it Helen and Warren. We're about to know each other very well, Warren. All right, Helen, if you say so. You know, I've known about your clever little manipulations for some time now, Warren. The stocks you were supposed to buy and didn't. The checks you wrote when Manuel had already given you the cash. Shall I go on, Warren? You can't prove any of this, you know. Yes, I can. If I have to. But I don't think I'll have to. You see, I don't care what you've done, Warren. You've soldered away a tidy little $50,000 or so, and that's just fine with me. But then what do you want? What do I want? I want what you're going to have, Warren. Escape. You want to leave? Oh, Manuel looked like a very good thing when I married him. One of the richest men in the world. Fat, bald, and tired. But it was all going to be worth it because he was rich. Well, he's still rich, and I haven't got a dime. But someday, someday I'll inherit it. He's a very healthy man, Manuelis. 55 and as sound as all his dollars. No, Warren, I can't wait to inherit millions. I'll settle for thousands now and escape. And you're going to get those thousands for me, Warren. I am. Look, Helen, you've got the wrong boy. I'm leaving in less than an hour. I don't think you are. You have no choice, Warren. I can stop you from leaving and you know it. Besides, you could use another $50,000, couldn't you? What is it you want me to do? There's $200,000 in cash in the library wall safe. You know the combination. Just walk in and take it. It's about that simple. Tonight at 10, Manuel will be in bed. The servants will be in their quarters in the other wing, probably asleep. I'll give you the key to the terrace door just off the library. It won't take you five minutes, and it's worth $50,000 to you. And if I don't? I've already looked up the district attorney's phone number, Warren. I see. Where will you be all this time? I'll meet you here, right after you get the money. Well, I guess you said it when you said I didn't have much choice, Helen. Okay, you've got yourself a deal. I'd better have one. Remember that. You stand at the window until you see your car drive away. Then quickly you check your watch. Your plane leaves in 35 minutes. You can still make it, Warren. By 10 o'clock tonight, you'll be at least a thousand miles from San Diego, out of anybody's reach. Helen will have to get her freedom without you. You collect your luggage, go down to the entrance on the side street and hail a cab. And soon you're a part of San Diego's late afternoon traffic, en route to Lindbergh Field. You enter the terminal building, the envelope containing the $50,000 safely tucked away in your inside coat pocket. American Airlines Flight 90 for Mexico City, now boarding in American Airlines Concourse, Gate 12. You walk over to the newsstand, pick up the evening paper and look over the headlines. Then as you put it in your pocket, you glance toward the telephone booth. Hello, Warren. Helen. I was just calling the district attorney. Were you? Mm-hmm. Shall I complete the call? That won't be necessary. Funny thing, Warren. I didn't trust you at all, but I will now, because I'm staying with you all evening until 10 o'clock. Tonight's $20 signal gasoline book goes to Ms. Meredith Manchester of Hollywood, California for this limerick. My 38 car is a riot. It looks sad and I won't deny it. But the way that old fossil performs is colossal on a signal go farther gas diet. A smart young lady, that driver in tonight's limerick, she knows what more and more drivers discover when they switch to signal, that mileage and performance are like birds of a feather. They go together. So if you're looking for quick cold weather starting, if you're looking for flashing pickup, if you're looking for smooth, quiet power, just remember you'll find them all when you fill up with signal, the famous go farther gasoline. You're trapped, aren't you, Warren? Helen Ramirez has blocked your escape. And you know she won't hesitate to tell the police that you've embezzled $50,000 from Manuel Ramirez. She'll be able to prove it too, even though her husband suspects nothing. Yes, she'll tell them unless you help her carry out her little plan, rob her husband safe and help pave the way for her escape. You have no choice but to do as she says. And so you follow her back out to her car and drive into town. The two of you have dinner at the quiet restaurant and go over your plans carefully. Then finally you're driving into the storm up the narrow twisting road leading to the Ramirez estate. Slow down, will you, Warren? We've plenty of time. I want to get this over with. So do I. Look, I know this road. I've been on it often enough. Warren. What? Lights up ahead, through the trees. Yeah, it's a car parked along the road. I don't know, wait a minute. It's a truck. Oh, it's the one from the telephone company. It was there when I drove by this afternoon. Storm must have blown the lines down. Well, at least the phones at the house won't be working if anything goes wrong. Nothing will go wrong, Warren. All right, all right. You drive on saying little for the next few miles. Finally you turn off the headlights and bring Helen's car to a stop before the gates of the Ramirez estate. All right, Warren, you know what to do. I'll drive the car off the road, park under the trees and wait for you. Helen, you're sure everything is fixed? Of course I'm sure. What about the caretaker? Pablo will be in his cottage. You don't expect him to be roaming around the grounds on a night like this, do you? I want to be sure everything's all right, that's all. It is now. Hurry. You watch Helen's car slip quietly down the road and then turning, you lower your head in the face of the driving rain. Enter a small gate and hurry up to the house. As you reach the terrace, you see the entire house is in darkness. You move quickly to the terrace door leading to the library. Unlock it with Helen's key. Then you step inside. For a moment you wait in the darkness of the library, listening, hearing only the fury of the storm outside. Then you make your way across the room and as you do, you reach down quickly. Pick up the music box you knocked over. You stand rooted at the spot, unable to move, hardly daring to breathe, waiting, listening. And then finally, certain that no one has heard you, you move cautiously across the wall safe. Use the combination you know so well and open the safe. It's empty. There's nothing in the safe except a pistol, a 38 automatic. Then as you reach for it, you stiffen at the voice. The beam of light cuts through the darkness. It's Ramirez. He's discovered you. You won't find any money there, Warren. I took it to the bank this afternoon. Don't move or I will shoot. Your hand closes over the gun inside the safe, Warren, and you whirl. Aim at the figure behind the flashlight and fire. Ramirez cries out. The flashlight drops to the floor. He's hit, Warren. In the dim light coming from the hall, you see him sprawled out in the doorway and you feel sure that he's dead. A wave of panic sweeps over you. You rush from the room out to the terrace, then down the path, wondering if the old caretaker has heard the shots. And then as you race around the hedge, start across the lawn in the darkness, you run into a man. Your fist crashes into his face and he staggers back, falls against the hedge as you sprint across the lawn. You're positive it was Pablo the caretaker. You wonder if he recognized you. You tell yourself it was too dark and you head for the trees where Helen is waiting with the car. And then running and stumbling, you make your way through the trees to the road. Suddenly Helen turns on the headlights and you run toward them. Warren, what's happened? I heard the shots. Let's get out of here. What's happened, Warren? I thought you said Ramirez would be asleep. He walked in on me. Did he recognize you? Yes. Not that it makes any difference now. I ran into Pablo. What do you mean? Warren, about Manuela. You didn't... You expected me to stick around? Let Ramirez turn me over to the police? Come on, get this car going. What's the matter with this thing? Warren, the money. There wasn't any money in that safe. Don't look so surprised. You probably knew all the time there wouldn't be anything in there except the gun. No, that's not true. You had it figured like this all along. Ramirez would show. I'd have to shoot. No. Get this car going. Warren, you've got to believe me. I... Warren, the telephone truck, it's stopping. The driver, he's getting out and he's coming this way. Quickly, get in the backseat. Get rid of him, Helen. Having trouble, lady? Why, yes, a little. I don't know what's wrong. I can't seem to get it started. Quite away from the main road. You get lost? No, I live over there. Oh, there it is. Thank goodness. Yeah, you better have a garage check, lady. The wiring may be bad. Yes, I will. Thank you. Oh, just a minute. Yeah? You're with the phone company, aren't you? That's right. I know what you're going to ask. We'll have the lines fixed, service restored within an hour or two. I see. Thank you. Bye. Bye. All right, Warren, he's gone. Let's get out of here. You heard about the phone service? Yes, it's a break. Probably won't be able to call the police for an hour at least. That'll give me a head start. I'll drive you back into town. You've got to do more than that, Helen. You've got me into this mess and you're going to kick me out. What can I do? Look, you don't expect to dump me back in town, pat me on the head and let it go at that, do you? Warren, wait. What's the matter? Look up there. A car is coming down from the house. It's Pablo. He's going for the police. Helen, let's get going. Drop me off at the gate. What are you going to do? Stop him from going to the police. You keep going after you drop me off. Park down the road away. I'll take care of Pablo. At the gates of the estate, you jump from the car, wait in the darkness for the car coming down the road from the house. You watch Pablo as he steps out of the car and hurries forward to open the gates. And then as the gates swing wide, you step out of the shadows and bring the pestle butt down on his head. You grab him as he starts to fall and drag him off the driveway into the brush. Then quickly you slip in behind the wheel of the big black convertible Pablo was driving and drive out the gates and down the road to where Helen is waiting in her car. Warren, what did you do with him? He's sleeping it off. Look, I'm taking this car Pablo was driving Helen. I'm heading for the border. Border? I can't take any chances. Pablo might have recognized me in the yard when I ran into him. If he did, I want a nice head start. Once I'm over that border, they'll never find me. I know my way around Mexico, been on enough hunting trips. But, but if Pablo didn't recognize you... Then I can stop running. Come back. That's where you're going to help me, Helen. Oh. Right now I want you to go up to the house. No, no, I can't. I'm well dead. You've got to. Pablo probably won't come too for a while. I want you to be there when he does. Find out if he recognized me. But Warren... I'll call you from the border. By the time I get there, you'll know if Pablo spotted me. If I have to keep on running, or if I'm in the clear. Yes, you're going to play it safe, aren't you, Warren? Once you're at the border and you've phoned Helen, you'll know what to do. And it all depends on Pablo, if he recognized you or not. Soon you're on the highway racing south at the wheel of the Ramirez convertible you took from Pablo. As the car rolls along the water soaked road, the storm increases in intensity. But not once do you slacken your speed. Until suddenly a half a dozen red lights loom up ahead, stretched across the highway. A roadblock, Warren. Your foot slams down on the brake, the big car swerves and twists wildly. You finally manage to bring it under control just a few feet from the barrier. You sit frozen at the wheel, staring through the spattered windshield. You watch the man in the raincoat approach. Hey, hey, what are you trying to do, buddy? Kill yourself? What's wrong? Why, the way you came barreling down the highway. You must be in an awful hurry. I am. What's the roadblock for? Bridge washed out up ahead. What? That's right. You can't get through. But I've got to. I've got to get through. Look, buddy, I said the bridge is washed out. But I can't turn back. You don't have to. What? You can take the detour over there. It's only a couple of miles. Just follow the signs. You breathe a sigh of relief, wheel the car around, and start down the narrow dirt road. It's a delay, isn't it, Warren? But not enough to really matter. Soon you're back on the main highway again, racing through the night. And then finally you sight the border up ahead. You're going to make it, Warren. Now, there'll only be the routine check by the guards. But you're not worried about them, are you? Nor Helen. You know she's so deeply involved in the shooting of her own husband that she won't dare go to the police. And you're not greatly concerned about Pablo either, are you? You're sure he didn't recognize you. And once across the border, it'll be a simple matter for you to lose yourself in Mexico, and the authorities will never find you. Evening, Inspector. Good evening, Senor. How are things? Muy bien, but better without the rain, eh? Yeah. What a night. Oh, by the way, is there a phone handy? Si. If you will pull over to this side there, you will find a telephone in the office. Thanks, Inspector. I just want to make sure everything's all right. Did you know that in 1925 the average car was scrapped when it was only six and a half years old and had gone less than 26,000 miles? Whereas today the average car lasts over 12 years and is driven over 100,000 miles. Much of the credit for this longer motor life goes to automotive engineers for superior construction. But much credit also goes to oil engineers for the superior protection your motor gets from such vastly improved oil as Signal Premium, the compounded motor oil that does so much more than just lubricate. You see, because its 100% pure paraffin base is fortified with scientific compounds, Signal Premium not only keeps your motor cleaner, but also prevents destructive acid corrosion, which can cause more wear than friction. Result, motors stay young, far, far longer, with Signal Premium compounded motor oil. So if you want your car to give you more miles of smiles, remember, make your next oil change a change to Signal Premium, the extra duty motor oil that you get only at signal service stations. You've reached the border now Warren, and once you're in Mexico, you're certain that you'll be out of danger. The $50,000 that you've stolen over the years from your employer Manuel Ramirez is safe in your inside pocket. As you hurry inside the small office to the telephone, you glance at your watch. You've made excellent time haven't you? And you're certain that even if Pablo did recognize you, if Pablo has already called the police to tell them Ramirez was shot, the alarm will come too late to stop you. Confident you're in the clear, you're more curious than worried about Pablo aren't you? You drop the money into the coin slot and call San Diego. Helen, as you wait for your call to be put through, you begin to wonder if perhaps the telephone lines are still down and then... Hello? Hello Helen, I see phone service has been resumed. Warren where are you? At the border. Warren listen to me, Pablo came in a few minutes ago. Pablo, did he recognize me? No he didn't. And everything's okay? No it isn't, Pablo called the police. What if he did? If he didn't recognize me he can't say who it was. Listen to me, when you stopped Pablo at the gate, knocked him out and took his car, Pablo was driving my husband to the hospital. What? Yes, Manuel was in the car, he's in the car now that you're driving. Wait a minute, I don't... Senor. Warren, Warren are you there? Warren? Senor, if you will come with me, the chief inspector would like to talk with you. What's wrong? Wrong? Well perhaps you can explain Senor, but there is a dead man in the back seat of your car. 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 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 David Ellis and Vivi Janis. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W Allen with story by Harrison Negley, music by Wilbur Hatch and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional and all characters portrayed on the Whistler are also fictional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember at this same time next Sunday another strange tale by the Whistler. When infantile paralysis strikes you need the help that is supported by the March of Dimes. The March of Dimes needs your help now. Give one dime or as many as you can afford, but give something. This is Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. This is CBS the Columbia Broadcasting System.
