 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'm 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 the Whistler's strange story, Confession. The group around Dr. Rourke's bed moved away as he beckoned with his last remaining strength, indicated that he wanted to be alone with his son. It was all right, the nurse decided, because his boy James Rourke was a doctor himself. She directed the others out, moved silently after them and closed the door. James sat on the edge of the bed and listened at what his father had to say. It was an amazing story, something the dying man had to clear up. It wasn't really his own story, but that of one Tony Delcano, a former public enemy number one. It was late. The steamer dock almost deserted when the big car pulled up near the gang plank. And Tony Delcano stepped out and turned to the driver. Solidi. Yeah, Tony? Not Tony, you fool. You want me picked up before this tub even sank? Okay, okay, not Tony. What do you got on your passport? Tony Delcano is no more. The boss is now David Delmas. Delmas? It's kind of close, isn't it, Michael? It should be close, Chief, so you don't slip. I'm not slipping to see that you guys don't. You do any singing, Solidi, one little bit now. Why do you always think I'm gonna be the opera star? I don't sing to nobody. See that you don't. You better go aboard, Chief. Hey, nice trip, Mr. Delmas. Go on, get back in the car. Yeah, Chief, here's your passport. Thanks, Michael. You're okay. I'll keep an eye on Solidi for you, don't worry. You'll make it, Chief. Sure. Sure, I always have. So long, Michael. Don't take any lead slugs. You watch from the rail as the lights from the Golden Gate fade into the distance. And you feel safe, secure, don't you, Tony? It's like the beginning of a new life, one that's free of the police. A new life under another name, David Delmas. You enjoy it even more only a few hours later at a cocktail party on board. When you manage a meeting with a very exciting girl, Sharon Phillips, you feel a sense of amusement inside as you introduce yourself in the ship's lounge. No, not at all. Delmas, David Delmas. Oh, it's a pleasure, Mr. Delmas. They say that ship port friendship sometimes leads to all kinds of things. May I get you another cocktail? If you like, Manhattan, please. Sure. Oh, just a moment. I want you to meet someone, an old friend. Doctor, Dr. Roark. Roark. Over here, Doctor. Oh, hello, Sharon. So you decided to take the trip after all. Huh? Uh, Dr. Roark, Mr. Delmas. Hi. How do you do? I, uh, I'll get that drink for you, Sharon. Oh, hurry back, won't you? Yeah, sure. It's a shock, isn't it, Tony, seeing Dr. Roark. And you know that it surprised him too. It's been a long time, hasn't it? And you know that you must talk to him alone and soon. He's gone when you return with Sharon Phillips' drink. But later, out on the deck, you see him standing by the aft rail, quietly smoking his pipe, and you saunter over. Well, we meet again, Dr. Roark. Oh, yes. I wondered when you'd be connering me alone, Mr. Delgano. Delmas. David Delmas. I suppose I have to ask you why you're traveling under an assumed name. The police again. Yeah, the police again. But, uh, Doc... You're gonna keep my secret, not say anything. Am I? You haven't said anything yet? No. No, I haven't. You're wise, Doc. Very wise. I could mess up your life, too, you know. Not way. There's your memory, Doc. The time you fixed up my shoulder after that hunting accident. I remember. Sure. And you remember it wasn't a hunting accident at all. I learned that later, Tony. Make it, Dave. David Delmas. Don't tell me what to make it. I'll say what I please, when and to whom. You can threaten me, Delgano. Sure, I know. Your son, um... Yes, he is. I wonder how his associates would feel if they heard his old man, Dr. Rock, senior had helped a criminal and never said anything about it. My son? You wouldn't... I would. So just forget, Tony Delgano. Or your son, young Dr. Rock, will have his life messed up, but good. I see. You're running away, I suppose. You suppose good, Doc. What are you doing? One of your own prescriptions, maybe? A little sea voyage? I'm doing a favor for a friend. Oh? Is he on board? Yes. Don't go getting any ideas. You can tell him about me. I want no one to know, Doc, till I'm free and clear, then it doesn't make any difference. I understand. Just skip mentioning anything to your friend. Understand that, too. It would scarcely matter if I did. My friend is making his last voyage. Oh? His body is in a casket in the hold. I am escorting him to his final resting place. His last request. Oh. Okay, Doc. I guess you won't Tony talking. I'll see you around. Not if I can avoid it. Oh. Did I hurt your feelings, old man? Well, forget it, see. I'll call on you anytime for anything, and you'll do whatever Tony Delgano says. I'm sorry. I forgot my new name. Delmas. David Delmas. He speaks a little differently from Delgano. Now, Delmas is going to be a real gent. But he's the same guy, Doc. The same guy. H.F. Hanson of San Diego is the Whistler fan to whom we are sending a $20 signal gasoline book this week as a token of our appreciation for writing this limerick. There was a young man from Delmar who traded his horse for a car. After many attests, he found signal gas best because it made his new car go so far. Signal, signal, signal gasoline. Your car would go by, would go by the gasoline. We're glad that our friend from Delmar found signal gas best, but he really wouldn't have had to make all those tests if he had just followed the lead of that increasing number of drivers who each year are switching to signal. In fact, so many drivers have switched to signal that the number of independent signal stations has grown and grown from a modest beginning in Southern California into an organization serving six western states from Canada to Mexico. Wouldn't you like to discover what has made so many folks prefer signal gasoline above all others? Next time your gas tank gets thirsty, just remember the advice on those signal billboards you've seen. Next time, fill up with signal. The famous go farther gasoline. It's clear sailing again, isn't it, Tony? As David Delmas, you're safe on the ship, not a worry. And Dr. Rourke will say nothing because he's afraid that his son, a young doctor with a bright future, will be hurt for the knowledge that his father once helped the criminal. He took a bullet out of your shoulder, didn't he, Tony? After a bank job. He didn't know. But it's the same now after all these years. He'd never be believed. And you'll take any advantage to be safe. You think very little about it the next few days. You're too busy with that girl, Sharon Phillips. She's exciting, isn't she, Tony? And seemingly very interested in you. Oh, you won again. David, I'm afraid I'm no shuffleboard player. David, I like you to call me that, Sharon. David, what do you do? You work, I mean. Why do you ask that? Oh, no reason except that, well, we had been seeing a good deal of one another. I asked Dr. Rourke if he knew anything about it. Rourke, what did he say? Why, nothing. Nothing at all. That's why I asked you. Oh, Sharon, I'm just a guy moving about, seeking... Seeking? Yeah. Something, someone like you. David, this too, it's coming up. I don't think so. You're the fool. What is it, Stuart? Uh, Mr. Dalmuss, could I see you alone, sir? Sure, sure. We'll dance twice around the main funnel. What do you want? Later then, sir. Alone. Look, what is it? I don't mind, David. I'll join you later. Not much later. Ten minutes, Sharon. Now, boy. Easy, Tony. What? I might not like that. Tony, where did you... I've seen your picture. So what? This, Mr. Delgano. This radiogram from San Francisco. From Mr. David Delmuss. Let me see. The ladies singing received well here. It's a big reception for you and Australia, Mikhail. So, lady, that double-crossin' little squealer, if I... Get off the cops, huh? I'll save your breath, Mr. Delgano. You can still lick him from here. You got a Sunday punch. Huh? Yeah. Your friend, Dr. Rourke. What about Rourke? He's escorting a stiff, isn't he? So? What's to prevent us from, uh, disposing of his quiet friend? You take his place in the casket, co-assure as nice as you please. Nobody's the wiser. You're a bright boy, boy. And you're into it? Just give me a little help, that's all. Help? Yeah. Maybe you could get a little package of shore for me. What's in it? A million dollars in diamonds. You just take it in with you, deliver it to me later. We both get a break. I'll pick it up after you're safe on shore. What do you say? I'll have to think it over. I'll get in touch with you. Okay. But remember, it's your only chance. It's a way out, isn't it, Tony? But you're not certain you want to take it. You tell yourself there must be another way you can escape the police. We'll be waiting for you when your boat docks at Sydney. In the days that follow, you search for the answer. Find yourself thinking more and more of the steward's plan. Then one evening as you stroll along the half-deserted deck. Evening, Mr. Delmas. Beautiful night, isn't it? Yes, yes it is, steward. Do you have a light? Right on. Here you are, sir. It's been a pleasant voyage, wouldn't you say, sir? Too bad it'll all be over soon. A dark day after tomorrow, you know. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Well, there were you, Mr. Delmas. Miss Phillips has been inquiring about you. Well? Asked if I'd seen you. She's in the lounge. Oh, thanks. Nice young lady that, Miss Phillips. Seems quite taken by you. If, if I may say so, sir. That's all? I got eyes, you know. Yes, sir. Very attractive woman. Lots of money, too, I hear. Too bad if anything happened to spoil your beautiful friendship. Like the police. Hey, Mr. Delmas. Yeah, it would be too bad. Been thinking any more about my proposition? Sure, I've been thinking about it. It's, uh, it's a deal. It's a deal. Bring the package to my state room in ten minutes. Here's the package. All wrapped up nice and proper. It's not a very big one, is it? Not very, but it's worth a million dollars. What's your cut? Twenty thousand on delivery. All right, beat it. I'll take care of things from now on. Oh, is Dr. Rorkeinen? Not yet, but I'll handle him. You understand that part's between you and the doc. Sure, sure. Well, gotta get topside. All right, just a minute. Yeah? How do I get this package to you when I'm ashore? Don't worry, Tony. I'll be close by. All the time. After he's left your cabin. Your gaze wanders back to the small package lying on the desk. You stare at it for a moment. Then quickly you walk over to it and rip it open. You're examining the contents of the package when... quickly you close the box. Slip it into the desk drawer. Oh, come in. Hello, David. Oh, Sharon, come in, come in. I was beginning to wonder where you disappeared to. I was just down my way after the lounge. Oh, the Fenways have asked a few people to their stateroom. Want to go along? Have I been invited? Oh, have you? Mrs. Fenway won't take no for an answer. What's the occasion? Oh, nothing special. There'll be drinks and cards, I suppose. Mrs. Fenway has suddenly discovered the game of blackjack. She's crazy about it. Wait till she starts losing. Oh, come on, David. The Fenways are waiting. Uh, I have to go up on deck for a minute, Sharon. Why don't you run along? I'll join you later. Oh, all right. You're going, honey. It's important I take care of this matter right away. Very important. Oh, Stuart. Huh? Oh, oh, Mr. Delmas. I didn't see you. Rather dark here. Yeah, and nice and dark. Out for a bit of a stroll? I am. Join me? Well, I... Come on, it's business. You'd like to make 10 grand easily, wouldn't you, Stuart? 10 grand? When I left the States, there was a reward out on me. 10 grand. Is that so? Yeah, that's so. You knew about that, didn't you? Why... No. No, I didn't. You figured you'd like to collect, didn't you? Why, I don't know what you're talking about. You wanted to hide me out where the cops couldn't find me, then you'd lead them to me. How am I doing? Oh, that's crazy. Why would I turn you in for 10 grand when you're holding a packet for me that's worth 20? Uh-uh. I opened it, Buster. Here. You opened it? Yeah. All I found was a handful of dime-stored glass. No, Bowery. No, wait a minute. You got me all wrong. Oh, I don't think so. What are you going to do? You're a smart punk. You can figure it out, can't you? It was easy, wasn't it, Tony? The steward won't bother you anymore. Sharon and the rest of the passengers will think he's fallen overboard. When you retire for the night, you're confident you're in the clear that your plan can't fail. Then the following morning, there's a knock on your state room door. Come in. Your breakfast, sir. Oh, thank you. Set it down here, will you? Yes, sir. You're new, aren't you? Where's the other steward I had? Well, it's rather odd, sir. He disappeared. What? The ship has been searched. He isn't aboard. You sure? Yes, sir. One of the passengers in the deck last night thought he heard a splash. You mean the steward might have fallen overboard? That's exactly what might have happened, Mr. Delmas. Oh, Dr. Rock. Good morning. Good morning. That'll be all, Stuart. Yes, sir. Too bad about the steward falling overboard, wasn't it? Yeah, tough. Well, accidents will happen. I don't think it was an accident. You were... Join me, doctor? Thanks. I've already had breakfast. The eggs look good. Are you sure you want them? No. You were... you were saying, doctor. It wasn't an accident. Was it? Accident? Oh, you mean the steward. How does it feel to be a murderer? I've often wondered. Have some coffee, doc? He knew too much about you, didn't he? I noticed from the first day when he saw us talking together, he was rather inquisitive in a guarded sort of way. Probably recognized you. He was a smart little operator, doc, but not smart enough. I hated to do it, especially after he'd given me that bright idea. What bright idea? The way of getting off his boat. You see, the police are going to be waiting for me when the boat docks in Sydney. What? Sit down, doc. You know, it's going to be tough for both of us if they grab me. Tough on your son, too. What are you going to do? There's a way I can slip past them. If you'll help. And I'm pretty certain you will, doc. How? You told me you're accompanying an old friend to his final resting place. Yes, that's right. Sure, sure. And that's how I'm going to slip off this boat. And never think of looking there for me. You... You're not suggesting that... Right again. We make a switch. No, no, I can't do that. I won't. Relax, doc. Relax. You can't ask me to do such a thing. I'm not asking. I'm telling you. What's more, you'll keep your mouth shut, or you'll know what happens to your son. Now, beat it. Now, listen to me. We'll be docking tomorrow night. I'll let you know in plenty of time. Plenty of time. You watch Dr. Roark as he backs out of your stateroom. A stunned, horrified look on his face. You're not worried, are you, Tony? You know he'll go through with it for his son's sake. You spend the rest of the day with Sharon, enjoying the deck games, chatting pleasantly with the other passengers. And then early that evening, when you've just finished dressing for dinner, you pour yourself a drink and knock on your stateroom door and interrupt your first sip. One of the ship's officers steps into the room. Yes, what is it? I'll have to ask you to come with me, sir. Oh? Captain wants to see you. What about? You'll come quietly, Mr. Delgano. Delgano? We've just received a radiogram from the San Francisco police. I see. Now, you... Mind if I finish my drink? Would you care for one? If you'll come with me, sir. Oh, come on. Have a drink. An instant after you throw the drink in his face, your fist connects with his chin and he slumps to the floor. Quickly, you close the door, stand for a moment with your back to it, your mind spinning wildly. They've discovered you now, haven't they, Tony? And you've got to move fast. Leaving the unconscious officer sprawled out on the floor, you hurry to Dr. Rourke's stateroom. That's what I said now. It's got to be now. But we don't dock until tomorrow. Sure, but as soon as that officer wakes up, they'll be tearing this board inside out, looking for me. Please, Delgano, don't ask. Look, I haven't got time to argue. You get going. I'll wait here for you. The minutes drag by and you wait for Dr. Rourke to return. Hase his stateroom floor, stopping occasionally to pour yourself a drink from the decanter on the nightstand. An hour goes by and then finally... Where have you been? I... I had to be careful. Is everything all set? Yes, I... I just had a talk with the captain. What? You double-crossing... No, no, no, no, no, wait. I told him I thought I saw you trying to hide in one of the lifeboats. I saw you lose your footing. I see. The boat is circling the area now. Hey, pretty smart. Pretty smart, Doc. Yeah, that calls for a drink. I... I could use one. I see you've helped yourself. Yeah, I've had a few. It'll make me feel better while I'm resting in that box down below. Tony, there's something I've got to tell you. Look, we've talked enough. I know all I need to know. Come on, finish your drink. We're going down into the hole where you can make me nice and comfortable. I told you. I said come on. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Very well. You seem to be giving the orders. Now, here's some hot weather mathematics for drivers. Take the temperature of the day. Add 2,800 degrees. The temperature inside the cylinder head of the average motor. That adds up to a lot of heat. Good reason why your motor needs the protection of the improved type signal oil that's engineered to stand up under heat. Signal premium compounded motor oil. You see, in addition to 100% pure paraffin base, signal premium contains scientific compounds that do things which oil alone cannot do. One of these compounds, for instance, keeps signal premium from breaking down at high temperatures and forming harmful gum or varnish. Another compound prevents bearing corrosion and still another compound actually removes carbon. That's why we call signal premium the oil that does so much more than just lubricate. So if you want your motor to stay young, get your next oil change at a signal station. Change to the improved type signal oil that stands up under heat. Signal premium compounded motor oil. In stunned silence, young Dr. Rourke sat on the edge of his father's bed listening to the dying man as he told his story in a voice that had now faded to a bare whisper. The end was near for the elder Dr. Rourke and it is his son James lean forward to catch the last few remaining words, an expression of horror across his face. Dad, you let Tony Delcano get away. No, no son, he didn't get away. But you let him take another man's place in the casket, your friend. Yes, he took my friend's place in the casket. The body eye was accompanying to its final resting place. But you see, there was something Tony Delcano didn't know. What was that dad? That my friend had chosen as his final resting place the burial at sea somewhere near Australia. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program The Whistler each Sunday night at this same time. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine quality automotive accessories. Remember, if you would like the fun of having your friends hear a limerick of yours on The Whistler, the address to which to send it is Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles, California. All limericks become the property of Signal Oil Company. Those selected for use on The Whistler will be chosen by our advertising representatives on the basis of humor, suitability, and originality. So of course they must be your own composition. Featured in tonight's story were Ira Grossell and Herb Butterfield. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen directed by Sterling Tracy with story by Joel Malone and Adrian Jean Doe, 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. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.