 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. Another strange tale by the Whistler. Each Wednesday evening at the same time, the Whistler brings you an unusual story of conflict and emotion. Tonight, The Broken Chain. And of course, he'd shouted a little and cast it out. Of course, Arnold Stanton, respectable businessman, citizen taxpayer, would be horrified at such an idea. So he went back to his routine and resolved never to let himself think about it again. But in spite of him, the thought did come back two weeks later, then only a week after that. Then it more frequent intervals until he found it popped into his head at least once every day. It was worse on weekends when he had to be with Evelyn all the time. When her helplessness, her utter dependence on him for everything, rose up and almost smothered him. By now, the thought didn't seem so horrible anymore. It had attained a kind of normal, logical quality and he found he liked to dwell on it like a problem in mathematics. In short, Arnold Stanton was ready to murder his wife. And more drove me home. Oh, of course, it is Monday. Yes, Evelyn, it's Monday. You look so tired, darling. I think you've been working too hard. Kiss? Of course. That's better. You know, we ought to take a little vacation a day or two. A week perhaps. We could get a cabin at Wilders Cove, right? What's the matter with Wilders Cove? Nothing. It's been good enough for the past ten years. I suppose it'll do for the next ten. Oh, you're a darling, Arnold. You always manage to see things my way. And Miss Roberts could look after things at the office while we're gone. Dinner will be ready in just a minute. Or how is she these days? How is who? Oh, Miss Roberts. It'll leave. Same as ever. You know, darling, we ought to have her out to dinner some evening. I'm glad that I want to share you with another woman. But I think about Miss Roberts and I feel sort of superior. She must need an awfully dull lie. I don't know. She seems to have her interest. Oh, such as they are. Poor dear, working so hard in your office all day, going home to that dreadful lonely apartment. Oh, darling, I'm so lucky to have you. I don't know what I do if anything should happen. But we won't ever talk about that, Rory dear. We're so happy, Arnold. Now, you sit right down with your paper and I'll have dinner on the table in just a second. Very well, dear. There's nothing wrong, is there, Arnold? No. Why? Well, you hardly said a word. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Oh, there's a dear. Now, I'll call you in a shake. I have a special surprise. They've seen just the way you like them. And Apple turned over to them. Yes, I'm over. This Monday night is different from all the rest. Six months ago, it was just a vagrant, horrifying idea. Now it's an obsession, isn't it? It's a terrible decision, Arnold. And there's no one to talk it out with. No one in whom you can confide. You sit there staring at the newspaper without seeing it, thinking. Thinking how you hate her and the senseless prattle you've had to listen to for ten years across the dinner table. But you can't walk out, Arnold. That's the strange part of it. You've decided it would be too cool to walk out. She leans on you. She's dependent on you for everything. No, Arnold. You can't walk out. Yes, dear. Coming. It's odd, isn't it, Arnold? How a random thought like the one that struck you six months ago can take hold and grow and finally solidify into something very real. As evening after evening of Evelyn's non-sensical prattle drives you closer and closer to it. Yes. You've decided it has to be tonight, haven't you, Arnold? And you're smart enough to realize that most murderers are tripped up by their own cleverness, that the plan surest of success is the simple one. As usual, you help Evelyn with the dinner dishes, but tonight your mind isn't on your work. That's my best have in China. I don't know why, but it struck me tonight that there's no use letting it gather dust in the closet. We almost never use it, and I said to myself, there's no use having nice things if you can enjoy them. I think that's right, don't you, Arnold? Don't you think that's right? Arnold, aren't you listening to me? Oh. Oh, sorry, dear. Yes, yes, of course. Well, here's the casserole. I'll be careful, dear. I was saying about using havelin for every day. Yes, there's no use having nice things if you can enjoy them. Well, I hope you don't think it's wrong, Arnold. It is lovely China, but after all, what's the use of having nice... Of course, dear, of course. Oh, give me careful with that casserole, dear. Aunt Leona gave it to us for a wedding present, remember? Good darling. She'd be alive today if it weren't for that terrible accident. What? Accident? I don't remember. Oh, well, of course you do, dear. The best job! Come for the havelin, but she's heartbroken. Her best casts are old, Arnold. You do feel sorry for her, don't you? It's clear now that you could never leave her. Why, that would be more cruel than the other way. So there's going to be an accident, isn't there, Arnold? A simple, ordinary accident. Like Aunt Leona's in the bathtub tomorrow morning. Everyone knows she sleeps late. That you always have breakfast in town. That you're at the office working before she gets up. It's 10 o'clock, dear, time we were in bed. I suppose so. I'm awfully sorry about the casserole, dear. You probably think I'm being silly about it, Arnold. But after all, it's havelin, and you just can't buy it these days. It simply isn't to be had, and it's the only thing Aunt Leona gave us. You do understand, don't you, Arnold? I'll try and find another one tomorrow. Oh, it's no use, Arnold. Havelin just isn't... Let me try, dear. About tomorrow, I forgot to tell you that the coffee shop where I usually have my breakfast is closed for redecoration. I was wondering if you'd mind getting up early tomorrow, fixing me a little breakfast. Why, I'd love to, dear. No, I love waiting on you. Yes, I know. Oh, it'll be fun, Arnold. We'll have hot cakes and sausages and eggs. Oh, oh, my, I am sleepy. I'd better run up to bed if I'm to get up at the birds. It'll be fun, Arnold. I think it'd be nice if we did it more often. Perhaps it would. Good night, darling. And you do understand about the casserole. Yes, Havelin, I do understand about the casserole. It's a long night, isn't it, Arnold? The longest night you ever spent in your life. You lie there wide awake, looking up at the ceiling. At the shadow of the chandelier and the moonlight. The black silhouette of its chain against the pale gray of the ceiling. Yes, Arnold, a chain. That's what you're going to do tomorrow morning, isn't it? Break the chain. Smash it into a thousand pieces. Oh, Havelin. Are you awake, Havelin? Too late, I should have known she... Fresh is ready before you get dressed. Brings you another strain, you get a pretty explosive combination. And when you add an unlimited supply of gasoline to that tired pre-war car of yours, the result can be just as dangerous. 15,750 people died on the country's highways during the first six months of this year. 40% more than the same period last year. And the toll is rising daily. Remember the next time you get into your car, that it can't always happen to the other fellow. And don't take a chance. Have your lights and brakes checked regularly. And then keep a cautious foot on that accelerator, just to make sure. The Whistler has broken Arnold after 12 years. And Havelin lies dead where you left her. Of an accidental fall in the bathtub. There won't be many questions. There can't be. There were no questions about Aunt Leona, were there? Lots of people fall in bathtubs, hit their heads and drown. And it's so simple, Arnold. You take the 713 bus as usual, drop it to the coffee shop for breakfast as usual, report to the office at exactly the usual time. The neighbors all know she sleeps until well after you've left, that she must have been alone at the time of the fall. All you have to do now is to carry on exactly as you always do, to be careful that nothing happens on this day that will distinguish it from the all the other drab but nuttiness days before the chain was broken. Uh, Mr. Stanton. Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Roberts, where was I? Let's see. We will appreciate anything you can do to expedite shipment, since we are committed on delivery by February 1st. Oh, yes, Merton, amalgamated foods. Please add this, Miss Roberts. Uh, paragraph. Incidentally, Mrs. Stanton wants particularly to be remembered to your wife and suggest if Mrs. Merton is accompanying you east that you make it a point to stay with us. Uh, regards and I think that ought to do it. I'll get it out right away. Oh, by the way, how is Mrs. Stanton lately? Same as ever. She was sleeping like a baby when I left this morning. You know how she is about getting up early. Yes, I know. Well, it's 1145, Mr. Stanton. Remember, you have a luncheon appointment at 12.30. Well, thank you, Miss Roberts. I'll remember. 1145, Arnold. Business as usual. They haven't found her yet. They'll call you as soon as they do and it can't be much longer. 1145. Who will find her, Arnold? The grocery boy or the mailman, perhaps? No, they wouldn't go upstairs. It'll probably be Mrs. Bronson down on the street. Knows the old Mrs. Bronson coming around just about now pounding on the back door. Oh, it's you, Richard. What's the matter, Mr. Stanton? You nearly jumped out of your chair. Here's to you know, our day to go over the accounts. Oh, yes, the accounts. Business as usual, Arnold. Everything you do this day is going under a microscope. Richards will remember how you jumped just then. Concentrate on the figures, Arnold. 1445, our account with Great Western stores amounted to $72,800. But you can't concentrate. It doesn't matter how hard you try. Mrs. Bronson will knock on the back door and no one will answer. But how will she get in to discover Evelyn? Did you leave the door unlocked, Arnold? You are so excited that you might have forgotten. That would mean you'd have to find her yourself tonight when you come home. No, no, I can't do that. What was that, Mr. Stanton? Oh, I'm sorry, Richard. You said you couldn't do something. Yes. I mean, I can't spend any more time on the reports right now. Would you mind leaving him here so I can check him this afternoon? Is anything wrong? No, nothing's wrong, Richard. Please go now. Haven't Haverle to see you while you were out to lunch, Mr. Stanton? Haverle? I don't know any Haverle. Well, rather nice-looking young man. Was he here on business? Well, he said it was personal and quite important. I see. Anything else? No. Were you expecting anything? No, Miss Roberts. Nothing. Oh, well, here's your letter to Mrs. Merton. I included that additional paragraph about your wife, and... Oh, that reminds me. Huh? Reminds you of what? Oh, I'm sorry. There was another message while you were out to lunch, and I don't know how I could have overlooked it. It was right on my padded... What was it, Miss Roberts? Well, it was nothing urgent or anything like that. What was the message? It was from your wife. She said she's playing bridge at Mrs. Bronson's, and maybe late getting home this evening. She didn't want you to worry about her. That's all. Don't faint now, Arnold. You don't want Miss Roberts to see you faint. What she said wasn't so remarkable. Just an ordinary telephone call. Business as usual, Arnold. Wait until she gets out of the room. You better say something, anything. Thank you, Miss Roberts. Oh, not at all. If you'll sign the letter. Yes, of course. You can let go now. She won't be back. Put your head down on the desk and let everything go black. She's not alive. I saw her die. She's not alive. I'll go home and... No, I can't go home. I can't take the chat business as usual. Perhaps the message came in yesterday, a week ago. Perhaps she looked at the wrong page of her book by mistake. Miss Roberts, I was just thinking... I was wondering... No, never mind. I found what I was looking for. Never mind. I'll stand out like a sore thumb afterwards. She... she... I know she's wrong. I know it. I gotta get myself together. Yeah, rest. Try to forget about it. I must have dosed off. I've been working a little too hard lately. Mr. Stanton, is something wrong? No, why? You acted so strangely all day. What's so strange about a man getting tired and falling asleep? I don't know, Mr. Stanton. I'm sorry. I'm sorry too, Miss Roberts. It's late now. It's after five. You better run along. I'm going too. I don't want to be late. Evelyn will be waiting dinner. I thought I told you, Mr. Stanton. She's playing bridge. Oh, yes, that's right. I forgot. By the way, Miss Roberts... Were there any other calls this afternoon? Oh, I'm glad you reminded me. Mr. Haverhill called again and said not to disturb you, that he'd see you tonight, at home. Mr. Haverhill. Mr. Haverhill. You don't know who he is or what he is, Arnold. And you haven't got time to think about it now. Perhaps he's a plain clothesman, a detective. Anything is possible, isn't it? You've been such an awful failure. Business is usual, Arnold. Nothing you've done today was usual. Barking at your secretary, jumping at open doors, falling asleep exhausted for four hours this afternoon. And they'll remember everything when the time comes, Arnold. But still, you can't run out now. You've got to go through with it. You've got to go home and find out once and for all. Sir is just inside the door on the right. But you can't take it right now. You stand there for a minute, not thinking, not moving, feeling the pulse pound in your temple. And then you find yourself fumbling for a cigarette. Cigarette. You tear it to pieces, trying to get it out of the package. And then find you have no matches, so you skip the cigarette for the time being. Mrs. Bronson. Yes. Arnold, Arnold Stamford. Oh, yes, Mr. Stamford. I don't want to bother you, Mrs. Bronson, but I like that Mrs. Bronson. I just, there was a message for me this afternoon at the office. Something about Evelyn Plainbridge, I think. Oh, yes. She isn't there with you, is she? Why? Yes, I would. Well, there's only one answer now. They discover they're in there trying to trap you. Mrs. Bronson knows. Ms. Roberts knew this afternoon they all know. This young man is waiting at the front door. You know who he is, don't you, Arnold? Have to face him, Arnold. One thing more and you'll be sure. Slowly you walk to the front door. What is it? What do you want? I'm sorry, Mr. Stanton. What do you want? My name's Havel. I've come to talk to you about your wife. Well, there's serious proposition, you know. Well, can't you come back later? No, I want to... Listen, listen. Just give me five minutes. That's all. I want just five minutes. Wait a minute, Mr. Stanton. It's all right. And the pistol in the middle drawer. You'd given it to Evelyn Arnold because she was afraid while you were away at the office. Because she couldn't stand being without you alone. You take it out. Notice how cold it feels in your hand. Check the breach and find it's loaded, ready to go. You're tense now as you sit down in the easy chair by the fireplace. Four minutes left, Arnold. And you won't need all of it. The heat of your hand has warmed the handle. It feels more natural there. You look at it for a moment. Then raise it slowly. Your hand tightens on the trigger. Turn in just a moment with the strange ending of tonight's story. You know, it's beginning to look like all predictions about summer travel this year are being topped by the actual figures. Mr. and Mrs. America are bundling the suitcases and the kids into the family car and taking to the woods for the biggest vacation season since 41. And of course we have it coming. But please remember this. Be careful with fire. Don't throw tobacco or matches from your car even if you're sure they're out. Use the ash trays instead. Build campfires only in areas where they're permitted and make doubly sure they're extinguished before you leave. The forests are ours to enjoy but there are responsibility too. So remember these simple rules and do your part in helping to prevent forest fires. Now back to the Whistler. Not in one place but in two. Mrs. Bronson of course was the first to discover it. She'd been concerned over the way you sounded on the telephone and had hurried over to find you sprawled in the easy chair by the fireplace. A half hour later Sergeant Cook was there too and the pieces began to fit together. Now Mrs. Bronson, you say you know something about all this. Yes, in a way I feel so responsible. Responsible? Well you see Mr. Stanton called me just before it happened and well I told him Evelyn was at my house. Oh I know I shouldn't have, but Evelyn was such a dear friend of mine and... Well? Well I don't think I was a party to it. I never really approved. But there was this other person, Mr. Haverl. Mr. Weston Haverl? Yes, Evelyn had been seeing him for some time. I told her she was very wrong. At the least she could do be tell her husband she was in love with someone else. But she felt so sorry for Arnold. Said he was so dependent on her. Yes? Mr. Haverl wanted to have it all off with Arnold. He would be above board about the whole thing. But Evelyn couldn't face it. So I... I covered up for her. What do you mean? Covered up for her? Well, Evelyn and Mr. Haverl were going to spend the day together, something special. And I called Mr. Stanton's office and pretended I was Evelyn. Said she was at my house playing bridge. Then when he got home, found she wasn't there, he called me to check up on her. And you told him the same thing? Yes, I told him she just left. What else could I do? Must have been a terrible shock when he found her there in the bathroom. Yeah. Arnold couldn't stand it, poor man. He just had to be with her. You know? Eh? It makes sort of a perfect ending. He never would have been happy without her. He loved her so. Production were Elliott Lewis and B. Benadera. Featured production of the Columbia Broadcasting System and was directed by George W. Allen, with tonight's story by Robert Libet and Frank C. Burt. Music by Wilbur Hatch. The Whistler is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Enforces Radio Service.