 Signal gasoline. Let every traffic signal remind you, you do go farther with signal gasoline. Yes, you do go farther with signal. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by the Whistler. Tonight, let George do it. 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 shadow. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Kathy was beautiful. There was no denying it. A redhead, one of the all too rare variety with pale white skin and big luminous brown eyes. Delicate, fragile as a dresden doll. Her beauty was always there for her to depend on when she got into a tight spot. That is, until she met an artist named Alan Blair and fell in love with him. Until then, men were nothing more to Kathy than a source of amusement, an endless parade of suckers, ready to jump when she croaked her finger. But Alan didn't jump. He didn't melt when she flashed her irresistible smile. He didn't come running to comfort her when she pouted. Maybe that's why she fell in love with him. And maybe that's why one day she told him about it. What? What did you say? I love you, Alan. Oh, no, not that. Alan! Alan, stop it! After all, Kathy, did you think I'd fall for that? But it's the truth. You never loved anyone in your life, darling. Accept yourself. You don't know what it feels like. You're wrong, Alan. I mean it. Sit over there. Please, Alan. No, that won't work either. There you are. Okay, Miss Booby Trap, you can relax until the next sucker comes along. I'm checking out. You can't. You hear me? You can't just walk out of me. Shut up. That's exactly what I'm doing. I won't shut up. You're going to be sorry about this, Alan Blair. You're going to come crawling to me on your knees. Now, listen, baby, don't tell me what I'm going to do. I could have just walked out, taken the easy way. But somebody had to tell you off, and I wouldn't let George do it. You better practice in front of the mirror, sweetheart. Your act's getting rusty. Come along. You're not going to get away with it. I'll... I'll kill you. That's what I'll do. I'll... No. Let George do it. You can work fast when you want to, Kathy. Three weeks later, the people of Evansburg are stunned when you announced your marriage to George. Dull, drab, uninteresting George Morrison, 15 years older than you, the staid, respected member of the city's board of supervisors. George is stunned, too. Kathy, I... I can hardly believe it. It's thrilling, isn't it, George? Well, if it was so sudden, I hardly knew what to think. I... I'd always loved you, Kathy, but I never dreamed that this could happen. Love isn't unexpected things sometimes. You... you do love me, don't you? Of course I do, George. You're all I'd ever hope for. Everything I'd ever dreamed about. Gosh, Kathy, I'll bet this'll be a surprise to the folks in Evansburg. We'll we get back from our honeymoon. Well, I get a kick out of telling them. You're too late, Mr. Morrison. What do you mean? I wired the papers yesterday. Yes, Kathy, you're interested in getting the news around, aren't you? But why? You know you still love Alan. Yes, and hate him at the same time. And he won't care a wrap whether you marry George Morrison. You can't hurt him this way. Or can you? At least the marriage is giving the people of Evansburg plenty to talk about. Down at the elite beauty salon on 6th Street, for example. Yeah, I hear they got back from the honeymoon last week. Really, Charlotte? Has she been in yet? She has an appointment this afternoon. Hey, don't wiggle so much. I might burn you. Ouch. Say, Louise, why don't you try a cold wave next time, huh? Never mind that. Tell me more about Kathy. I don't know anymore. She was playing the field and all of a sudden she takes off with old George Morrison. You suppose she really loves him? I don't know how any woman in her right mind could tie up with that clam. Why, he ought to be in a museum with the rest of the specimen. Well, there must be some reason. Well, you tell me then. George, dear. Yes, Kathy? George, you remember what we talked about on our honeymoon? No, what? My portrait. Oh, yes, yes, the painting. Well, you haven't mentioned it, George. Frankly, my dear, I'd forgotten it. I've been so busy. Yes, I know, you've been so busy. Well, what about it? Go ahead, dear. Go right ahead. I've found one, George. Yes? How long will it take? Oh, about a month, he said. He must work rather fast. That's not very long. Yes, I know, but I think it will be long enough. On these hot summer days, you whistler fans know how much pepier and full of life you feel right after a shower when you're fresh and clean. Well, that goes for your car's motor, too. Yes, a clean motor is naturally a more efficient motor. That's why it's so important these days to use the modern, solvent-refined motor oil that helps keep your motor clean. Signal 4-star motor oil. You see, because of solvent refining, which is the latest, most costly process known to oil engineers, Signal 4-star motor oil actually forms less carbon. And what little there is is soft like soot, tending to blow out with exhaust gases. Thus, by keeping your motor cleaner, Signal 4-star motor oil actually helps three ways. One, keeps your motor running pepier, smoother, quieter. Two, cuts down on the repair bills, often caused by hard abrasive carbon. And three, helps stretch ration gas. That's why, if it's been a thousand miles or two months since you last changed oil, you'll be doing your motor a real favor by driving into one of the friendly dealers displaying signals, yellow and black circle signs, and saying, grain and filler up with signals 4-star motor oil. And now, back to the Whistler. Oh, Kathy, didn't marry George Morrison for money or social position. And the unofficial investigating committees at the Elite Beauty Salon and the City Hall corridors have puzzled, groping for a reason. On the afternoon after her discussion with George about the picture, she makes a call at the garden court apartment, 328 at the end of the corridor on the third... Hello, Kathy. Hello, Alan. Well, that takes care of the greetings. Are you going to ask me, yes? I don't know. Was this trip really necessary? Please, Alan. All right. Come in. These are your murals, aren't they? Mm-hmm. How long have you been here? A month. So, though... I heard you'd moved into town while we were on our honeymoon. Things get around in Evansburg, don't they? Uh, cigarette? Good to see you again. Comfy? Okay, what? Spill it. What do you want? Don't be like that, Alan. I'm not fond of quiz programs, sweetheart. Suppose you come to the point, hmm? Making it very difficult. And you're not here to play games. I told you once it was all over, finished. Something I don't even want to be reminded of. Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. Alan, I... I didn't understand, then. I do now. I want us to be friends. Why? Well, I... I... I've got you there, haven't I? You're a very pretty girl, Kathy. You look swell on magazine covers. But I don't want you in my apartment. Now, suppose you run along. I'll see you in a few years. You don't understand, Alan. George, that's... I know. You're a husband. Well, he wants me to have a portrait done. Oh. Oh, this is strictly a business deal. No other artists in town, of course. Oh, it isn't that, Alan. He's seen your work and he won't hear of anyone else. I told him you'd be difficult. No, you missed it. Impossible was the word. You won't believe me, will you? You still think there's a catch in it somewhere. Right? Well, there isn't. I'm trying to do something for you for once. What can you do for me? Well, I thought if you did a good job on my portrait, George would give you a chance at the commission of the murals in the new city hall annex. Oh, no, no, no. Wait a minute. What's he got to do with that? He's a supervisor. They're going to select the artist in August. Kathy, now look at me. Now, I want this straight. Is that why you came here? Yes. I didn't know you'd sell out your brother for two bits. Please, Alan. I mean it this time. All right. I'll do your portrait. You could hardly keep from laughing out loud, Kathy. It was quite a triumph. You're thinking now how important that portrait's going to be to you, how necessary it will be for Alan to finish it on time. You tell him George must have it in a hurry, how you and he will have to work late at night. And you can imagine what a conversation piece that's giving them down at the elite beauty salon. And she was there till almost midnight? That's what Jessie said. She lives on the same floor, you know. His studio's in the penthouse on the roof, and she heard him up there till 10 minutes to 12. I wonder what old man Morrison thinks of that. Well, Henry sees him every day down at the city hall. Seems happy as a lark. Well, maybe he doesn't know. Of course we could be wrong. They haven't been seen out together yet. No, not yet, but you're working on that, aren't you, Kathy? While Alan works, you're making careful notes the way his apartment is laid out with his living quarters on the third floor and the studio upstairs in the penthouse on the roof. Oh, still, Kathy, the light's bad enough without you changing position every minute. I'm sorry, Alan. Excuse me. 9.15. What? Every night the phone rings at exactly 9.15. Oh, that's Manuel. I set my watch by him. Who's he? The houseboy downstairs. Calls every night to catch my order for breakfast. Oh. Well, no. Alan, I'm awfully tired. Couldn't we go downstairs for a drink? I don't know. It might not look so hot. Don't be ridiculous. Okay, 10 minutes. That's better. Is there a mailbox around anywhere? Yeah, there's a shoot by the elevator. Oh, good. I'll drop this off on the way down. Almost forgot it. An important letter, wasn't it, Kathy? And after you mail it, you and Alan go into the bar downstairs. A strange smile of satisfaction on your face as you note a raised eyebrow here and there. A pair of heads coming together in the corner. 10 minutes should be long enough. The next evening at home, George seems to be worried about them. Is something bothering you? Why? You seem strange tonight. I'm sorry, Kathy. I guess I've been working too hard. That's all it's worrying you? Well, I... Come here, George. I couldn't even tell you. You haven't lived in Evansburg as long as I have, Kathy. You don't know how mean and vicious this town can be. What are you talking about? It's... Well, it's about Alan Blair. What do you mean? Kathy, did you ever know him before you came to Evansburg? Oh, yes, likely. I'd meant to tell you, darling. You see, he's painting here under the name of Stanley Simmons. And when Charlotte told me about him, I didn't realize that he... You see... What's the matter? I received an anonymous letter at the office today. Mr. Morrison, because I respect and admire you, I feel it is my duty to tell you that your wife is... Signed friend. I wonder who would... Sure, I don't know. Count. I just wanted you to see it. You're accusing me. No, I'm not. You have no right. It was nothing. I didn't accuse you, Kathy. You believe them, don't you? You swallowed their dirty little tails, you think they're... Kathy, I only wanted you to... You don't have to tell me. You're part of this, aren't you? I'm trying to tell you I didn't. Give me that letter. There. That's where it belongs in the wastebasket. Kathy, please. Leave me, honey. I wouldn't have shown it to you had I thought that it would... Oh, Kathy. Oh, please. I'm sorry, honey. Please, go. Okay, dear. I'll be in the den if you want. Hello, Charlotte. I'm sorry I'm late. Oh, that's all right, dearie. Kind of slow this afternoon anyway. Here, let me help you with your thing. Oh, thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you, Charlotte. I'll hang a jacket up. Well, I suppose you want a shampoo and a facial. Mm-hmm. You always make me feel better, Charlotte. Oh, good. Hey, what's the matter, dearie? Oh, it's nothing. Well, it doesn't look that way to me. Here, lean back. Take it easy. Oh, Charlotte. I just got to tell someone, huh? Tell what? Now, you mustn't breathe this to a soul. I don't know what I'd do if I got around. Well, you know you can trust me, dearie. Well, it's George. We had a horrible scene last night about Alan Blair. I thought he was going to hurt me. It's all been so ridiculous. Mr. Blair's been so careful to be business-like. Am I sure? But I didn't know your husband has such a temper. Well, I couldn't explain to him. He just went up in a rage. And it was all so innocent. Alan's been working nice because George wants the picture done by next week. And the other night, Alan and I got awfully tired and decided to go down to bed. Devoted gullible George. He was just the man for your plans, wasn't he, Kathy? And he's coming through nobly just as you'd suspected. Kathy, I have a mind to go down and see this fellow Blair. Why? Well, it's time we cleared this thing up before it goes too far. It's getting around City Hall, and I... Well, I'm not going to sit here and do nothing. There must be some way to stop it. Kathy, let's forget that darn portrait. I won't. I like it, and he's going to finish it. He has nothing to do with it anyway. Charlotte's daughter. Charlotte? The beauty operator. Why? I don't know. She hasn't been for me for some strange reason. Then why do you continue to go there? Well, I didn't know about it until yesterday. I started to say something to her, and then I realized it would only make things worse. I see. Well, you'd better go back tomorrow. Why? Well, you can tell her that if she isn't careful, she'll have a slander suit on her hand. George, I'm not going to see that woman again. Very well. I'll go. You're in the clear, Kathy. You've been very careful not to depend on outright lies. Half-truths are more effective and safer. Charlotte will irritate him. He'll accuse her. There'll be an ugly scene, and then... Now, wait a minute, Mr. Morrison. You can't talk like that to me. I can't. Well, now, you just listen to me. This ugly talk about my wife and Mr. Belair is going to stop. Understand? I had nothing to do with it. Don't tell me you had nothing to do with it. You're a jealous old fool. Chew it. Yes, jealous. All right, listen. One more peep from you and your gang of gossip mongers about Alan Belair, and I'll have a lot of you in court. Well done, Kathy. It's there now. He's shown his hand in public, and nothing he does from now on can change it. Murder comes in two parts. You see, motive and opportunity. The motive is complete, solid. You've cemented every brick in place with those clever, delicate hands of yours. Now, the opportunity. Hello, dear. George! Oh, George, I'm glad you're home. What's the matter? I've been terrified all evening. What? There's been a man out there. He was looking in the window. Did you call the police? The phone's dead. I couldn't. Well, this is serious. I'm going to call the police. No, don't leave me here. Well, you can come along. The police can't be here all the time while you're away at all those meetings. Well, we'll see about that. George, I'd feel a lot better if there was a gun in the house. A gun? Yes. At least I'd have something to rely on. I don't know. You're asking for trouble with a gun in the house. You give the other guy a good reason for shooting first. So you don't care? You just assume I were alone here at night with a prowler in the house. Oh, it's not that, Kathy. I just don't... I do. If I meant anything to you, you wouldn't even discuss it. All right, all right, Kathy. I'll buy you a gun tomorrow. Now let's go and see the police. But, of course, the police find nothing, Kathy. When you cut the telephone wire, you were careful to keep on the cement walk and there were no footprints. And Evansburg took note of the fact that on the afternoon of July 23rd, George Morrison walked into Tyndall's sports shop and bought a .38 automatic. As simple as that, motive and opportunity. You've built a beautiful frame, Kathy. Now all you have to do is put George's picture in it. Here you are, my dear. Thank you, George. I do feel miserable. It's so hot. Well, this ought to cool you off. Here. Oh, darling, it's quarter to nine. You better run along. Kathy, must I pick up that picture tonight? I told Mr. Blair you'd be over around nine. You'll be thrilled with it, George. Well, I don't relish leaving you alone like this, but don't even think about it. That prowler's had the scare of his life with the police after him. You wouldn't like to come along? No. I'd be so miserable with his headache. I'll be an angel and run along. I can't wait to see it over the fire, please. Very well. You stay where you are and I'll be back before you even know it. He's gone. You act quickly, Kathy. The other car parked around the corner. He was being grieved, you told him. Quickly. You know the garden court apartments like a book, the trade entrance at the rear, deserted at nine o'clock, the back stairway to the roof, and Alan's studio in the penthouse. The east window is always open. You noted that, too. You crouch behind the chair next to the window. Twelve minutes past nine, George's new gun, gloves, no fingerprints. Pitch black outside. You're lucky no one will see you leave. And there's George arriving right on the dot. You knew he would. Now, just one more piece of luck and you're in. Just one more. The telephone has to ring at 9.15 with Manuel's breakfast routine. And Alan has to come up to the penthouse to answer it. The second seemed like ours. You can hardly breathe, Kathy, waiting, waiting. He can't fail this time. Kathy, don't be too obvious. Hide the gun under the chair cushion so they'll have to hunt to find out the window now and down the back stairs. Strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, a question for you drivers. Are you getting as many miles per gallon from the gasoline you're now using as you did before the war? Well, the answer is yes, if you're using signal, go farther gasoline. For it's true, you still go as far as before the war with signal. And I'll tell you why. You see, in every gallon of gasoline, there are some ingredients which give pep and anti-knock, and other ingredients which give mileage. Well, those anti-knock ingredients are the ones reserved for war. That's why Signal Oil Company frankly admits no gasoline today can give you all the pep and anti-knock you found in pre-war gasoline. And which you'll be enjoying again in even further improved signal post-war gasoline. But those mileage ingredients, which made pre-war Signal famous as the go farther gasoline, they're still in today's signal formula. And in addition, new mileage giving hydrocarbons have been added. That's why, if you're interested in stretching your gas stamps and who isn't, you'll find it's as true today as before the war. You do go farther with signal gasoline. And now, back to the whistler. Ten minutes after leaving Allen's studio, Kathy is home again, safe in bed with her headache. There wasn't a hitch, no one saw her leave. The car is back in its place around the corner, even the gloves are disposed of in the kitchen incinerator. George is late, naturally, unavoidably detained. And of course, Kathy isn't surprised when a police car drives up about ten o'clock, and she admits Captain Murchison of the Homicide Squad. I don't quite know what to say, Mrs. Morrison. What is it, Captain? Oh, it's my husband, isn't it? He visited Allen Blair's apartment tonight. I sent him over for the portrait. What happened? Mr. Blair was murdered. Murdered? Oh, no, he wouldn't. George was jealous, but he wouldn't. He didn't. What? He asked one of the patrols to drop over here while he was gone to sort of keep an eye on you after that prowler business. Boys were kind of worried when they found you'd gone, Mrs. Morrison. But when did they come here? Around nine-fifteen. They figured their brother'd tell your husband so they phoned him at Blair's apartment. They were kind of surprised at what they heard. Why didn't you broadcast it? What do you mean? Mrs. Morrison, Blair didn't hang up that phone. You just thought he did. Otherwise, I can't see why. Can't see why you gave the officer a play-by-play report when you shot Blair. You ready to go? This program, directed by George W. Allen, with tonight's story by Anne Lockwood, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is Marvin Miller speaking, and suggesting that you let every traffic signal remind you that you do go farther with Signal Gasoline. Yes, you do go farther with Signal. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.