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. The Whistler's strange story, Gratitude. The water surged with the impact of the terrific struggle going on below its surface. Two men tugged and pulled at one another, twirled and twisted free, then locked together again and the struggle became even more intense. Two men, one young and strong, the other older and fighting with all the waning strength left in him. Finally the young man clutched the older one and pushed up to the gurgling surface of the water, held him at arm's length and landed a crashing blow to the older man's chin. The struggle was over and the young man, spent and breathless from the ordeal, slowly towed the limp form of the older man to the water's edge. The small crowd which had gathered closed around him and the older man was lifted to safety. The young man, Cliff Garner, sat exhausted at the water's edge, his eyes fixed on the limp form. You okay, Cliff? Yeah, yeah, sure. Is it all right? They're working on him. You'll be fine, Cliff. And if I know Sid Lorenz, he'll never forget you for saving his life. Yes, Cliff, you've done a fine thing. You've saved a man's life. Not just an ordinary man, either. You've saved the life of Sid Lorenz, the famous and fabulously wealthy motion picture producer. And the studios buzzing with the account of Sid's fall from the superstructure on the set into the tank. And the courageous efforts of the stuntman in the picture who saved him. You, Cliff. It feels good to be a hero, doesn't it? And you're certain that Sid will reward you handsomely for saving his life. Several evenings later, you're the guest of honor at a party in Sid's beautiful hillside home. Helen's with you. Helen Ames, the pretty little movie extra beaming with pride. Listen, everyone. Listen. Can you all hear me? Ah, thank you. I want to propose a toast to the man who risked his life to save mine. My eternal gratitude to Cliff Garner. Thanks, Mr. Lorenz. Oh, not at all, Cliff. Okay, everybody. Let's start some dancing now, huh? Go on, Cliff. You and Helen dance. I want you youngsters to enjoy yourselves. Oh, we will, Mr. Lorenz. Come on, Cliff. I want to dance with a hero. Huh? Oh, sure, sure. Anything wrong, Cliff? You don't act like the man of the hour. I don't feel much like an idiot. Let's forget it, huh? You expected more than a toast, didn't you, Cliff? The smile, the gratitude Sid expressed. You expected something more tangible than that, and you're disappointed. The evening wears on, and you're certain that Helen senses your disappointment, but she says nothing. You grow sick of the sight of well-dressed people, of the wealth and means all around you. Sid's lavish home is lavish friend, and his eternal gratitude to you, the man who saved his life. And then, about midnight, you find yourself in the library with Helen, Sid, and several of his close friends. Say, Sid, about your new preacher, I have a couple of problems that I... Save them till I get back, Sam. I'm on a vacation. Oh, are you going away, Mr. Lorenz? Oh, just to Palm Springs for a month, Miss James. I need a rest. If it hadn't been for Cliff here, you might have gotten that long rest, Sid. Yes, I know, I know. I owe Cliff a lot. Forget it, Sid. I didn't do much. Oh, yes, you did, and I won't forget it. Of course, I've thought about it a great deal. You know, you can't offer a friend money for saving your life. Besides, I know that a guy who risked his life for a friend wouldn't want money for it. But you can be sure of one thing, Cliff. You'll always have a job with me. A good job. Oh, thanks, Sid. That's... that's fine. Fine. I certainly appreciate it. Oh, you don't have to thank me for anything. Oh, say, you folks ever know how Cliff and I happened to get together? No, I never happened. Well, when I first met him, he was a college student getting a degree in literature, wasn't it, Sir Cliff? Yeah, that's right. Medieval literature. One of his professors recommended him to me when I was doing a period picture, and Cliff helped to keep it authentic, and he did too. Did a good job. Well, why'd you switch to selling, Cliff? Money. After Uncle Sam made a pair of truperotomy, I found that I could do more tricks with my body than I could with my mind, and get more for it. Medieval literature doesn't pay much rent, you know. Ha-ha! No, but it's a great wealth to have your knowledge of literature. Oh, by the way, that reminds me. I want to show you people something. You'll especially appreciate this, Cliff. Hmm? You know, I haven't shown them to many people. Well, you'll have to move back a bit, Cliff. The wall's safe right behind you. Go on, sir. Oh, that's all right. That's all right. Now let me see here. Your eyes follow the movement of Sid's hand as he works the combination of the wall safe. Without consciously meaning to, your mind registers the exact movements that he makes. Eight right, ten left, twelve right, three left. And then consciously this time, you repeat the numbers in your mind until you've memorized. And as soon as you can, you'll write them down while they're still fresh in your mind. Sid is taking something from the safe and has brought it over to a better life than you follow him. Suddenly quite secure in your new knowledge. Ah, there they are. Original German manuscripts. How's that for a medieval treasure, Cliff? They're wonderful, Sid. They're marvelous. Gottfried von Strasbourg, 12th century Germanic poet. Karl von Sommer, Austrian philosopher. Gustav Flemming. They're the real thing, all right, Sid. Ah, I knew you'd appreciate them. I paid a hundred thousand for them, and I wouldn't sell them for a million. You know the yellowed manuscripts are worth all of a hundred thousand dollars, don't you, Cliff? You recognize their value immediately, and a plan begins to form in your mind. You know the combination of the wall safe where Sid has returned the medieval manuscripts, and Sid's leaving the next day for Palm Springs taking the help with him. Somehow the fact that Sid didn't reward you financially for saving his life is easier to take now, isn't it, Cliff? You think about it as you drive Helen home from the party. Well, wonderful party, wasn't it? Yeah, yeah, fine party. Oh, it was nice of Mr. Lorenz to guarantee you a job that way for as long as he lived. That's what he said for me. That's what he said. You know, Cliff, I suppose this sounds terrible, but I really think he should have given you a reward. Money, I mean. Is it awful of me to feel that way? I wouldn't worry about it. Oh, well, I'm sorry, Cliff. I guess it shouldn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. It doesn't bother you, does it? No, why should it? No, it doesn't bother you, Cliff, because you've already decided to take your own reward from Sid Lorenz. It's a simple plan, and early the next evening you put your plan into action. You drop by Helen's to break your date with her for that night, and then you drive to Sid's hillside home. You park your car down the road and quietly make your way along the high hedge toward the house. Suddenly you hear footsteps ahead of you and you crouch back into the hedge. A flashlight penetrates the darkness at the entrance of the house. And then you see the old caretaker on his regular tour of the grounds. He turns, goes off across the terrace, and you hear his footsteps slowly die away in the distance. And then you move quickly to the side of the house and the library windows. Force a screen, then the window, and you're inside. In a matter of minutes you have the manuscripts in your hands, and you retrace your steps hurriedly back to the car. Helen. Hello, Cliff. So you stole the manuscripts. Why did you do this? Everything was going smoothly, wasn't it, Cliff? Everything until you found Helen waiting for you in your car. You had entered Sid Lorenz's home unnoticed, removed his priceless medieval manuscripts from the wall safe. Your idea of what Sid might have given you for saving his life. But now there's Helen to contend with. What's the idea, Helen? Why did you follow me here? Because I was afraid you might do this. Last night you didn't seem very concerned that Sid Lorenz hadn't given you a reward. Any money, I mean. You weren't mad enough, Cliff, or hurt enough. And I noticed how closely you watched Sid when he opened his wall safe. It worried me. And tonight, when you came by and broke our date, I just knew I'd find you here. So I came to attack you. Come on, we're getting out of here. Cliff, you've got to take the manuscripts back. You don't want to steal. I did want to. Please, listen to me. You're too nice a guy to... You listen to me. I didn't ask you to run this. The steal is mine. Sid says these manuscripts are worth 100,000 bucks. Well, that's great what they eat. Now I've got them. I won't have any trouble dumping them for a quick 50,000 dollars. You just forget you tagged along tonight. I won't forget. I'm sorry. I know about it, but I... Look, Helen, will you be reasonable? I did this guy a big favor. I saved his fat neck. What does he do? Nothing. Oh, I know. I can always have a job with him as long as he lives. Well, that's just dandy. I'd like this job better. The 50,000 bucks. Cliff, it just isn't right. You can't do it. Nothing's worth the risk you're taking. Not worth hiding the rest of your life. I warn you. If the police question me about this, I'll have to tell them the truth. I'll talk. I'll have to. Okay, Helen. Here's the decision back. We? But I... You want to be sure they get back in the safe, don't you? Come on before I change my mind. And once again, Cliff, you make your way across the grounds of the Lorenz Estate. The two of you move cautiously past the long row of trees, then out over the broad expanse of lawn bathed in bright moonlight. And then just as you reach the path to the terrace... Cliff, we're here. Here, take it. It's coming around this way. Let's get out of here. I said let's go. Hey! Hurry up, Helen. Hey, you two, stop! Stop! Well, sweetheart, you satisfied? You almost got us caught. Do you think he recognized us? He didn't get close enough for that. What are we going to do now? Exactly nothing. The manuscript. Look, if you think I'm going back there now, you're crazy. But you've got to. You've got to put them back. Not in your life. Cliff, I warn you... Save your breath. There's nothing you can do about it now. What do you mean? You're involved in this just as much as I am. Take care, take it, we'll remember seeing two people run from the house. A man and a woman. Now you won't turn me in, will you, Helen? What, I had nothing to do with stealing the manuscript? I know that, but the police won't if I'm picked up. Clear, sweetheart? Yes, Cliff. You've made it very clear. You're sure you have nothing to fear from her now, Cliff? Helen will have to keep quiet, won't she? Because she knows you'll involve her in the theft if she talks. The two of you drive into town to her apartment without speaking another word. Then you return to your cottage at Santa Monica. Good night's rest. And the following morning you hurry downtown to the Moncrieff Art Gallery to visit an old college friend. Good morning, sir. May I? Well, what do you know? Hello, Stan. Cliff, you old son of a gun. How are you? Fine. How's the art business? Very slow. Say, I am glad to see you. What brings you around? Frankly, something you once said about your boss. Moncrieff? He said he buys and sells and never asks too many questions. Oh, that. Well, perhaps I gave you the wrong impression of Mr. Moncrieff. I don't think so. Sure, he operates a legit business, but for much you said, he isn't against picking up a buck now and then that isn't quite so legit. Well, it'll have to be worth his while. I think you'll find it worthwhile. Why don't you skip back there to his office? Tell him I'd like to have a little chat with him, hmm? All right. Wait here. Well, Mr. Moncrieff, you satisfied there, genuine? Oh, indeed, indeed, sir. May I ask how you were able... How I got the manuscripts isn't very important, sir. Oh, on the contrary, it's quite important. I understand, but there's nothing to worry about for the purpose. They won't be missed for at least a month. You're, uh, certain? I'm certain. The owner won't be back in town until the 25th. Then who knows when he'll look into his safe. I see, I see. Month, eh? Well, that's time enough. I was told a lot of them was worth a hundred grand. Not on the market I'll have. No, no, I guess not. What do you think you can get for them? Oh, possibly 60,000. 60,000. What's your cut? 30%. You are high-priced, aren't you? Okay, 30% it is, Mr. Moncrieff. Good, good. Leave the manuscripts with me. I'll call you in a few days. You leave Moncrieff, drive back to your cottage. And you wonder if it wasn't a mistake turning the manuscripts over to him, don't you, Cliff? 30%, his share, it's more than you counted on, isn't it? In the days that follow, you wait for some word from him. And then one evening he pays you a visit. Come in, Mr. Moncrieff. Come on in. Thank you, thank you. Sit down. How about a drink? Oh, no, thank you. No, no, no. I... Oh, no, thank you. I... I only stopped by for a moment to return this. What is it? The manuscripts. I discovered they belonged to Sid Lorenz. All right, so what? In our agreement, I wish to have a month in which to dispose of them. Sure, sure. I told you, Lorenz won't be back until the 25th. You, uh, haven't seen the evening papers? I know. Mr. Lorenz died of a heart attack in Palm Springs this afternoon. What? Yes. Annoying, isn't it? Now, of course, the estate will have to be settled. In a few days, his lawyers will be poking around in that safe field. They'll discover the manuscripts are gone. Exactly. And when that news breaks, Mr. Garner, I don't want to have them on my hands. I suggest you put the manuscripts away before you answer the doorbell. Hello, Cliff. Oh, it's you. Have you seen the papers? Lorenz has been... Come on in. Uh, Mr. Garner, I really must be going. Now, wait a minute, my creature. Sorry we couldn't do business. Look, we can figure out something. I'm afraid not. Good night. Cliff, who was he? Never mind. Oh, well, you heard about Mr. Lorenz. Yes, yes, I heard about Lorenz. Oh, Cliff, you've got to return the manuscript before they shall... Don't start in on that again. How do you know the caretaker didn't recognize us that night? I don't. Look, if he had, we'd have heard about it by now, wouldn't we? Oh, please, Cliff. While there's still time, take them back. I'll help you. I'll do anything you say. Leave me alone, will you, Helen? If they find you with the manuscripts, it'll mean prison, Cliff. Don't you understand? Stop yacking, will you? I want to think. Yes, you've got to think it out, Cliff. Make up your mind what to do. You can put the manuscripts back into the safe where they belong. Have nothing more to worry about. Or you can keep them, hide them somewhere, and dispose of them once the affair blows over. And later, after you've dropped Helen in her apartment, you'll find yourself driving into the residential district, past the Lorenz estate, dark and seemingly deserted. You turn around and drive by it again and again, trying to make up your mind what to do with the roll of stolen manuscripts in your overcoat pocket. Then you make your decision. You turn into the main highway and head back to your cottage in Santa Monica. You know now that you can't give up the manuscripts, not when they're worth $50,000 to you. The news of the theft is in the papers that weekend, isn't it, Cliff? Yes, the loss of the Lorenz manuscripts has been discovered by his lawyers. There's a mention, too, of the old caretaker in the news story, the fact that he saw a man and woman running from the house one night last week. And you're relieved to learn that he's unable to give a description of the two. Several times that day, you try to check with Helen by telephone, but she doesn't answer. The following morning, you receive a surprise visitor, Mr. Moncrief. I see where the papers, Mr. Garner, they pretty so baffled. They have no lead at all. Yes, sir. Still have the manuscripts? Sure. Why? Well, the news of the theft has created considerable interest among several of my old clients. They all seem quite anxious to buy the manuscripts. Yes, one of them in Europe has made a very tempting offer, $65,000. I believe you take it. That is a very tempting offer. What do you say, Mr. Garner? Real anxious now, aren't you? Not as cautious as you were. Oh, but I am. We won't close the deal now. We'll wait a while, say, three months until the affair cools off. In the meantime, you hold onto the manuscripts. You still want your 30%? Yes, that's right. No, no, no, no. As long as I'm going to have to wait that long, I might want to shop around. Find someone else to handle this deal at a smaller percentage. I don't think you will. I have no time to try. Don't get me wrong. I'd like to have you handle this deal. You're a very good man. But I still want to shop around. Unless you want to sew it up right here, Moncrief. Take 20%. That's all yours. Oh dear, dear. I do hate to haggle. If your client will pay 65, he'll pay 70. You can peel the extra five grand off the top. Add it to your percentage. At least it would pay your expenses to Europe. Yes, I could do that, couldn't I? You probably had it in mind all along. All right, Mr. Garner. Let's get to the deal. Fine. You're sure nothing will go wrong? Don't leave it to me, Mr. Garner. Just leave everything to me. Hold on to the manuscripts until I ask for them. You'll have around 50,000 in cash before the year is out, I promise you. Love the sound of your voice, Moncrief, when you speak like that. Love it. It's worked out perfectly, hasn't it, Cliff? You've only to wait a few months or so. Moncrief will dispose of the manuscripts for you, and you'll receive over $50,000. You smile as you realize how close you came to losing it all, if you had listened to Helen. If you'd replaced the manuscripts in the safe. Instead, you decided to keep them and gamble. And now that gamble is going to pay off. After Moncrief has left your cottage, you can't resist taking the manuscripts from your desk drawer and looking at them. You settle down in the big easy chair by the fireplace and congratulate yourself. Suddenly you sit up as you hear a car stop outside your cottage. You move quickly to the window. Police car. Panic sweeps over you as you see two men step out of the police car and start down the path toward your cottage. They're coming here. Helen. She told them. She must have told them. If they find you with a manuscript, Cliff, you'll mean prison. Don't you understand? Prison! Your eyes dart around the room looking for a place to hide the stolen manuscripts. But it's too late, isn't it? You don't have time. In a split second, you make your decision. It's the last thing you want to do. But you throw the manuscripts into the fire. You stand there helplessly, watch them go up in flames. It takes but a moment, and then they're gone. Fifty thousand dollars. But that's better than going to prison, isn't it? Yes, the police can prove nothing, can they, Cliff? Yes? We're going to fletcher, police department. May we come in? Sure. This is Mr. Jepson, Mr. Lorenz's lawyer. We came about the Lorenz manuscripts, Mr. Garner. You must have read about them in the papers. They were stolen. Sure, I've read about it. We just dropped by to give you a report on how we're making out. Don't worry, Mr. Garner. We'll find them for you. For me? Oh, you didn't know? Mr. Lorenz didn't tell you before his death? Tell me what? Why, Mr. Lorenz left the manuscripts to you in his will, in gratitude for your having saved his life. The Whistler has just brought you another of his strange tales through the facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education. The Whistler The Whistler
