The Whistler Presented by the United States Air Forces in Europe. 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. Tonight transcribed, it's the Whistler's strange story, The Ambassador. The majority of the guests in Mrs. Helena Forsythe's elegant drawing room looked upon the party for what it was, a highly important marker in the Washington social season. Her guest list was virtually a who's who of the government elite, of foreign dignitaries, and the syndicated colonists who recorded their coming and going. But to Gerald Wells, counselor officer in the diplomatic service, it was even more than this. Mrs. Forsythe was charming. She was a widow, and her influence extended well beyond social affairs. Well, did I induce you to dance with me? Why, of course. I was about to pay my respects. You'll forgive me, Mr. Wells, but you know when you came in this evening it started me reminiscing. Oh, how so? Well, we're both old timers in a way. You've been in the diplomatic service for twenty years now, haven't you? Twenty years, two months, and eight days. Positive? Oh, positive. I've held almost every job in the books, you know, courier, first secretary, council. All except one. Yes, all except one. And that one's on its way. I assume you're referring to Mr. Johnson's resignation. Yes. His successor will be chosen from three men. You, Eric Thomas, and, oh, let's see, that outsider. Donald Wilkins. Oh, of course, Donald Wilkins, but he really doesn't have a chance, so. Um, Mrs. Forsythe. Please. Helena? Yes, Helena, then. Your sources of information would do credit to the Intelligence Department. I shall take that as a compliment. The way it was intended, I assure you. You're a clever woman, Helena. I've always admired you. Have you? Well, I've admired you too, Gerald, very much. And nothing is more important to me than seeing someone I, I admire successful. You must get that appointment. Do you think I have a chance? It's between you and Eric Thomas. I know it. Poor Wilkins is out of the running. I'll be grateful for anything you can do. Well, I'll do what I can. But most of it's up to you, Gerald. You have the seniority, but Thomas, unfortunately, is a fair-haired boy. Look at him over there, playing up to Stanton Edwards, the columnist. I'm not too worried about Thomas. What makes you say that? Oh, I don't know. I think I'll have a chat with him. Later on. Good evening, gentlemen. Well, Gerald, how are you? Excellent. May I speak to you a moment, Eric? Of course. You know Stanton Edwards here. I believe we've met. Hello, Edwards. Weren't you in on that Latin American contact? I am sorry, Edwards. I can't talk to the press until the department issues its report. To be more frank, you won't be sure of what happened there until you read the papers. Good night, Thomas. Good night, Stanton. Hurtin' it up, Stanton? Oh, forget it, Gerald. What's on your mind? The ambassadorship, of course. Foolish of me to have asked. But, really, I want that appointment, Eric. I've served the department faithfully for 20 years, and I think I deserve it. So, I gave you your start in the service, Eric. The fair thing for you to do is step aside. Yes, I see. Because you once wrote a letter of recommendation for me, I'm supposed to throw my chances at an ambassadorship. I don't think that's unreasonable. Gerald, there are few men in this world I love beyond myself. You are not one of them. It's not only that, Eric. You have a certain degree of brilliance, but you lack maturity and stability. You don't mean maturity and stability. What you mean is your fanatic devotion to little things, decorum and detail. The unimaginative man's substitute for intelligence. You have no right to say that. My family has been in the service for three generations. But have you got to offer a bricklayer? Bricklayers. Mechanics. My good man, if human beings were rated as objectively as horses. Any number of bricklayers and bricklayer sons would be in the Kentucky Derby. And you, Gerald, would be pulling a plow. We're wasting words. Is that your final answer? Yes. I intend to make every effort to get that appointment myself. Very well. Well, now, now, supposedly you step inside for a scotch and soda. I believe we ought to make an appearance together. You really are of the old school, aren't you, Gerald? Keep up appearances no matter what the cost. I don't like scotch. Let's make it an hors d'oeuvre. Our good hostess is serving some of her rare Roquefort cheese. All right. Does that surprise you, Gerald? A bricklayer's son who likes imported Roquefort? Come on, Eric. After you. By the way, Gerald, I've been given a bottle of good scotch. Now that we've become enemies, let me send it around. Oh, don't be silly, Thomas. That's dull. Old diplomatic tradition. Bear gifts only to your enemies. Now the drawing room awaits us. Let us smile. Now back to the whistler. Long after the party's over, you're still raving over the things Eric Thomas said to you. Yes, for the first time in your life you feel quite capable of killing a man. You're determined now to let nothing stand in the way of that appointment. And then on Thursday, about ten days before the appointment is to be announced, you discover that Thomas has been working in an even more effective way. Suddenly you're ordered to San Francisco to speak at a trade conference. You're sure Thomas is behind it. The most crucial week in your career. You'll have to be in San Francisco, leaving Thomas a completely free hand in Washington. Then afternoon when you go downtown to pick up a few things for the trip, you're ready to admit that Thomas has you licked. Then for some strange reason, something in the window of a fancy food shop strikes your eye. A gift package of imported cheeses. You stop for a full minute thinking. Does that surprise you, Gerald, a bricklayer's son who likes imported roe crick? Your turn. Walk across the street where you see a few shoeshine boys competing for customers. Shine, Mr. Shine them up, only a dime. Yes, yes, all right, boy. Yes, sir. But before you start, I wonder if you'd do me a favor. Sure. Here. Take this, and would you mind running over to that shop across the street for me? I want to buy that small box of rare imported cheeses in the window. Yes, Gerald, there is a way to eliminate Eric Thomas and leave the field clear for you to become the next ambassador. Late that night, the eve of your departure for San Francisco, you put the finishing touches on the package. Address it not to Eric Thomas, but to yourself, to Gerald Wells, Grandview Hotel, San Francisco. And on the upper left corner, the return address of a friend of yours in San Francisco, a man named Fred Oliver. It's ready now, Gerald, with enough poison in each of those jars of cheese to kill a dozen men like Eric Thomas. At the plane the next morning, you're greeted by the usual group of reporters and photographers. Watch you handle them with dispatch. Give us some information about that. No, I do not believe Eric Thomas will get the ambassadorial appointment, but now don't quote me. No more questions now. However, yes, I will allow a few moments for the photographers to take a few poses. Three-quarter view, please, and don't catch me in a frown. Thank you, Mr. Wells. Thank you very much, gentlemen. It's time I went aboard. You land at San Francisco Airport and check into the Grandview Hotel. That same evening you attend the trade convention and make your speech. And then shortly after the session ends, you slip away and enter a drugstore phone booth across the street. The San Francisco World? City dust, please. Hello, get this. If Gerald Wells doesn't get out of this town, we're going to blow his room right out of the Grandview Hotel. Never mind who I am. Now we'll see what happens. And you don't have to wait long, do you, Gerald? No. Soon after you arrive back at your hotel, the manager comes up to your room. He's a very worried man, properly concerned for your safety and the hotel. What he said, Mr. Wells, it alarmed the people at the newspaper office, so naturally I thought that I had to be notified. Well, if I weren't leaving tomorrow morning, I shouldn't take it so lightly. And I do hope, sir, that on your next trip out you won't let this incident reflect on us, Mr. Wells. Not at all. Thank you. Oh, and I'd like to leave my forwarding address with you. There just might be some mail or something sent to me here. Oh, of course. I'd be glad to have it all out myself. Fine. I generally get my mail at my club, the Carlton. Carlton? Yes. Gerald Wells, care of the Carlton Club, Washington 12. Twelve? Twelve, you see. Well, I see that there isn't any delay, Mr. Wells, on anything. It'll be forwarded to you promptly. That's all, Gerald, except for one thing more. Before you leave San Francisco, you drop the small white package, the one that's addressed to yourself, into a mailbox. You know that it won't be picked up and delivered to the Granville Hotel until Monday, and that it will have to be sent on to you in Washington. That's exactly what you want, isn't it, Gerald? All the way across the country, you keep reviewing in your mind how it's going to work. When you call on Helena, you wish you could tell her everything, but you don't dare. Instead, you try not to appear too sure of yourself as she greets you. Oh, Gerald. Did you meet Donald Wilkins on your way out? He was just here. Oh, was he? Mm-hmm. Poor Wilkins. They all come running to me, don't they, Gerald? Of course I had to turn him down. You can't help everyone, Helena. You're so right, darling. Besides, we have to make up for lost time. Leaving town didn't help you at all. Oh, Thomas's been gaining ground. Yes, he hasn't wasted a moment. I still think I'll beat him. Oh, I know you will, Gerald, but we're going to have to change our tactics. In what way? Bring it into the open. Take it to your superior. Make it a real fight. I don't think that's necessary. Gerald, you haven't been here. You don't know the power of the man. He'll be stopped, Helena. In some way, he'll be stopped. Now, let's talk about something else. There's nothing else to talk about until your appointment is assured. You are a conniving human. I only know what I want. And I know that you'll get it. Now, don't worry, Helena. I know what I'm doing. Yes, Gerald, you know what you're doing, and it's all working out. On Wednesday, when you arrive at the club, you see Eric Thomas stretched out in front of the fire in the drawing room, as usual. Before joining in, you approach the service desk. Any mail for me? Why, yes, Mr. Wells. I have a few letters and a package forwarded from San Francisco. I'll get them for you. No, no, no, hurry. Bring them to me in the drawing room. Yes, sir. Well, good evening, well, gentlemen. Gentlemen, good evening. How are you? How are you, gentlemen? Fine, fine. Well, Mr. Gerald Wells, how is my dear friend? Come, friend, draw up a chair before the fire. Yes, thank you, Eric. I will. Sit down, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I trust you had a good trip. Excellent. And in my absence, I trust that you have been working hard. Day and night. Yes. And not without some little show of success, I assure you. I don't doubt that. Your mail, Mr. Wells. Oh, thank you. Here you are, son. Thank you, sir. Excuse me a moment, Eric. Anytime. Oh, what's this? Package forwarded all the way from San Francisco. You must have missed me there. What? Oh, Fred Oliver has sent me a package of imported cheeses. Cheese? To you? Every time I attend these trade conventions, I wind up with a flock of gifts. Oh, a tribute to your brilliance. Now, why? Why couldn't it have been cigars again, or even a crate of oranges? Well, I guess this is just something to give the stage a little more. Just a minute, old man. Any Roquefort in there? Oh, that's right. You do like cheese, don't you? Have a look. There. There's a jar of Roquefort. Not a very big one. Well, any amount of imported Roquefort will be gratefully received. Here you are. After all, you did give me some scotch. Ah, Gerald, you are indeed a friend. I'll think of you when I try this later with my tea. Please do, Eric, and, uh, yes, yes, I'd like you to be thinking of me. Well, Gerald, it's complete now. The contents of the little white package have been delivered to the proper party. Only a matter of hours and the appointment will be yours. The next morning you sit down for breakfast in the club restaurant. The waiter brings a paper to your table and spreads it out. It's all there, Gerald, just as you expected. And you expect the police, too. A detective lieutenant finds you at your coffee. He fumbles a little at having to ask new questions. It's a shame that the world has some unknown person called your hotel in San Francisco. That's right, lieutenant. The hotel manager told me about the call. I didn't think too much about it, but now... Well, now you figure he's the one who sent you that poison cheese, huh? Yes. Some way he must have run into the name of a friend of mine and put it down on the return address. And that's why you didn't hesitate to hand the package over to Mr. Thomas. Certainly, neither of us had any way of knowing that it was prepared by some maniac. Of course not. It's a perfectly natural thing, Mr. Wells. A perfectly natural thing. Thank you. I don't think we'll have to trouble you any further. And now back to the Whistler. Well, Gerald, the late Eric Thomas was right, wasn't he? Bare gifts only to your enemies, he said. And that's exactly what you did. Now, with Thomas out of the way, there is no one standing between you and the appointment. You'll receive it in a few days, just as you promised Helena. The questioning that took place on the morning after Eric's death went as you thought it would, everything the way you figured it, except for one thing. There is a man standing in your apartment, questioning you the next evening, and he is not a police lieutenant, but Stanton Edwards, the colonel, who knew you both so well. Here, Edwards, it's one thing to gather news, but I prefer to make my statements to the police. That is, if they decide it's necessary. Oh, don't worry, old boy. They will. And I'd say that it'll be more than a casual questioning this time. What are you talking about? Oh, stop it, Gerald. It won't work. You see, old boy, I remembered your picture in the paper. I have an excellent memory for people I dislike. My picture? Yes, at that airport last week, just before the flight to San Francisco. You were standing outside the plane waving your hand, your right hand, and in your left you were carrying an overnight bag and a small white package. What? I could see that package quite clearly. You had a finger hooked through the string. Oh, of course. There's a box of candy, a gift for a friend. No, Gerald, I ran down the negative on that picture. It was quite sharp. Especially in the 16 by 20 enlargement we printed up for the police. The printing on your gift box came out nice and large and clear. You're lying. No, the printing read to Mr. Gerald Wells, Grandview Hotel, San Francisco, California. You wrapped that package and addressed it before you left Washington. No. No, it's not true. Oh, yes it is. The really horrible thing about it, Gerald, is that it was all so unnecessary. We shouldn't have been so gullible about Mrs. Helena Forsythe. We'll leave Helena out of this. That's too bad you didn't, old boy. You fell right in the line for her. Well, what do you mean? That seems a shame to tell you this now, Gerald, but you weren't the only one she worked on. She was driving Thomas, too. That was her little plan. Plan? For what? She wanted to split things up, create two warring camps in the department, you on one side, Thomas on the other. Yes, but why? To make room for her, boy, of course. The man she really wanted to see appointed. Donald Wilkins, Gerald, the new ambassador. BANG! BANG! Be with us again next week, when once again the United States Air Forces in Europe present The Whistler. A of M production by Army PFC Ron Johnson. This is Air Force Sergeant Tom Alford speaking.
