 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-father gasoline, invites 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. 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 strange story, Panic on Mulberry Street. Mulberry Street is in the heart of the city, yet it's very quiet there. Perhaps because it's only one block long with a small park at one end, the river at the other. Or perhaps the quiet is due to the nature of its small, unimposing array of shops and converted brownstone flats. Among the shops is the bookstore belonging to Henry Pettigrew. It's as quiet as Henry himself and equally middle-aged. Some of the books and the shelves reflect Henry's hobby, criminology, a most fascinating subject to Henry Pettigrew. And he spends many an evening discussing various cases with his good friend, police Lieutenant Perez. It's on just such a night that Henry rather embarrassed, calls attention to something which he's been anxious to show the officer. What is it, Henry? What have you got on your mind? All right, all right, I'll show you. I've been afraid you'd laugh at me. Have I ever? Yeah. These newspaper clippings, you see what they are. Well, yes, you have stories here and all the deaths in the city for weeks. For one month, to be exact, Lieutenant, but all of those deaths don't interest me. What? Just these six. They're rather unusual. See here now. An unsolved murder on Ashton Street, an accidental death on Carl Street, another on Elm, a suicide on Gordon, a disappearance on Iris, and a hit-and-run on Kirby. So what? Well, the streets in this area are in alphabetical order. I know that. Now, these deaths occur on A, C, E, G streets and so on. Now, if I'm correct in my conclusions, there's a pattern in progress. And the next street in order is M. M? Oh, Mulberry, your own street. Well, so that's it. Why, I see why you're concerned, Henry. I knew you'd laugh. I didn't mean to. But, Henry, there have been many crimes in this city. In every city, these are only a few. With the sort of patience you've displayed, some sort of pattern or mathematical design could be applied to almost any group of them. True. True, Lieutenant. And yet... And yet, there it is, eh, Henry? Look, are you suggesting that this is the work of one man? Well, why not? Would it be the first time a killer moved in accordance with a pattern? Possibly an unconscious one. Oh, no, not at all. The police case files would suggest that they often do. But some of these cases you're talking about were accidents, Henry. Suicides. I wonder, Lieutenant. Henry, you're always trying to worry me. Oh, no, no. But I refuse to be intimidated. Well, I have to be running along now. I have some things to do. All right, Lieutenant, I'll see you at the door. OK. But remember, this is Mulberry Street, Henry. You'll be sure to bolt it after me, hm? He's amused, isn't he, Henry? You expected him to be, but you're pleased. Proud of the little plan you've worked out. You're ceaseless reading and clipping until you've found something on every street you wanted. And you're still thinking about it. Smiling because you know you've impressed Lieutenant Perez in spite of his amusement. Then the following morning, Arnold Fenway comes roaring into your shop in one of his unreasonable outbursts. I thought I told you to stay away from my sister. And I told you, Arnold, that if Mary Ellen doesn't object to my company, I shall most certainly... I'm warning you for the last time. Stay away. I'm not afraid of you, Arnold. I've asked Mary Ellen to marry me. Forget it. Mary Ellen's not married. Mary Ellen's not marrying you. Or anyone else? What? That's it, isn't it, Arnold? Even though Mary Ellen is 43, you don't want her to marry anyone. You want to keep her an old maid. Keep talking, Pettigrew. Because her husband might have something to say about the way Mary Ellen should handle the estate left to her by her uncle. Why, you... Oh, you fell down. Here, I'll help you up. Take your hands off of me. Stay away from Mary Ellen, Pettigrew. Or you won't be around to make any of those screwball predictions. No, won't I? What are you trying to pull with that hogwash anyway? Trying to scare people? I'm not trying to frighten anyone. How do you figure Mulberry Street was next for some kind of crime, huh? I don't have to explain that to you, Arnold. Okay. So you don't. Yeah. Remember what I said, Pettigrew. Stay away from Mary Ellen. Or I might make that prediction of yours about an accident on Mulberry Street come true. Over here, Henry. Oh, oh yes. Didn't see you at first, Mary Ellen. Well, it's the same then, Henry. The downs. Ah, this is nice. Don't know what I'd do without this little park. Been a good friend for years. And I don't know what I'd do without... without you to talk to, Henry. How's it been? Still the same? Oh, worth. Arnold is more unmanageable than ever. He has no right to interfere with your life. You're scarcely a child, Mary Ellen. I know that, Henry. It's just that Arnold is so set against you and... he's terribly quick tempered. I'm afraid of what he'd do to you. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm not going to. These kind of people have to run their course. Run their course? I don't understand, Henry. Oh, nothing, nothing, Mary Ellen. Well, let's forget your brother. For now. Henry. Yes? Henry, there's something I meant to ask you. One of the neighbors mentioned it about this... this theory you have. Theory? The pattern you've worked out. Oh, yes. My pattern for death, as the Lieutenant called it. Isn't it kind of silly, Henry? I mean the idea that... well, that the next time it'll be Mulberry Street. Oh, no, it isn't silly at all. That's exactly what's going to ha... I mean to say, Mary Ellen, that... well, such things are quite possible. Mulberry Street may very well be... my for death. Tonight's limerick inspired by the cartoon on Signals' new billboard was sent in by Jim Fleming of Oakland, California. There once was a driver who plastered his car with every new gadget, including radar. The car was a riot. No one could deny it. But without Signal Gas, he could never go far. Signal, Signal, Signal Gasoline Your car would go farther, go farther Gasoline Our gadget-minded friend in the limerick should have realized that the logical way to make a car go farther is with Signal, the famous go farther Gasoline. What's more, by filling his tank with Signal, he'd also have discovered how much fun driving can be. For the secret of Signal's good mileage, the more efficient performance that today's Signal Gasoline coaxes from your motor also helps you enjoy faster pickup and smoother, more responsive power. So if you want your Gasoline dollars to go farther, just heed the advice on those Signal billboards you've had. Next time, fill up with Signal, the famous go farther Gas. The quiet of Mulberry Street is interrupted now, isn't it, Henley? Not violently. The street has begun to stir. Conversations at first, that's all. A little questioning here and there is your theory spread. Then a definite feeling of tension in the air is your idea that something's going to happen takes hold. It's working perfectly, isn't it? Exactly as you knew it would from that day weeks ago when you thought of the pattern for murder and figured out your plan for a perfect cover-up. The morning following your rendezvous with Mary Ellen at the park, you're not surprised to see her come rushing to the bookstore. You know that somehow she's found out about Arnold's last visit, which you didn't mention to her when you talked with her in the park. Oh, Henry, why didn't you tell me last night? I didn't want to worry you, Mary Ellen. When I heard that Arnold had hit you, I could have killed him. Please, let's forget it. No, no, Henry, not this time. I'm going to have it out with him once and for all. Mary Ellen, you'll only excite him. Arnold can't go on ruining our lives. I'll find some way to stop him. No, I don't want anything to happen to you. But Henry, nothing will. Meet me tonight in the usual place. We'll discuss it. I can't tonight. It's the club meeting over at Mrs. Lang's. Oh, that's right. Wednesday. I forgot. Well, tomorrow night then. And meanwhile, don't say anything and don't worry about your brother. She'll be free of him soon, won't she, Henry? And so will you, free to enjoy the happiness that is rightfully yours. And you won't have to live in constant fear of what he might do to her. You know that Arnold drinks heavily at times. He's a man of violent temper and in a moment of blind rage, he could easily kill her or you. Tonight, with Mary Ellen away at her club meeting, Arnold will be alone in the house. Yes, Henry, the time is right for your pattern of death. You reach the old brownstone house shortly before nine. You glance around, turn into a tiny delivery alley running between the houses. Inside, near the library window is Arnold. He's sitting with his back directly to you. Perfect. His back couldn't be better. Then Arnold rises suddenly. You duck out of sight as he comes to the window. And then you hear him again, sitting down as before. Now is the time, isn't it, Henry? The gun is pointed. But your arm suddenly becomes paralyzed and your knees begin to tremble. I just can't. I can't do it. Morning, Lieutenant. Henry, I, uh, I guess I came to apologize. Apologize? Mm-hmm. The laughing at your idea of that pattern stuff. You heard what happened? Happened? No. Arnold Fenway disappeared from his home last night under mysterious circumstances. Disappeared? Uh-huh. Maybe you hit something with that crazy idea of yours, Henry. You stand in shock silence, staring at the lieutenant. Your mind spinning crazily. It's fantastic, isn't it, Henry? But it's happened. The theory. The plan you worked out to cover up Arnold's murder. It really exists. Yes. You've accidentally stumbled on to a killer's pattern for death. I, I just can't believe it, Lieutenant. This theory, it looked good on paper, but I never really thought... Look, Henry, just how much do the people here on Mulberry Street know about this? Well, none of the details, really. Not any more than what I told Frank Ferris. How much did you tell him, Henry? Just that I figured something out. That there might be a crime on Mulberry Street before long. Well, I'm not saying there is anything to this theory of yours, Henry, but if there is a killer at large, we don't want to but know we're aware of this pattern, this blueprint. So keep it quiet. Oh, yes. Yes. Well, that's all I had in my mind. I'll be getting back over to the Fenway house. Hey, Lieutenant. Huh? Mind if I come along? No, not at all. Come on. It was around 11 o'clock when I came home, Lieutenant. I assumed Arnold was still working. Lights in the library were on. I didn't want to disturb him, so I went directly to my room. You didn't look in at all? No, no, I didn't. Miss Fenway, from the appearance of this room, there must have been a struggle here. You're certain you didn't hear anything at all during the night? No, not a thing. Isn't it possible the struggle took place before Mary Ellen came home? She said she didn't look into the library on her return. Yes, that's possible, Henry. It wasn't until this morning when I came down here that I knew something had happened, so I ran into Arnold's room and the bed hadn't been slept in. That's when I called the police. Uh-huh. You said you came home around 11 last night, Miss Fenway. Now, what time did you leave the house earlier? Ten minutes to eight. It's only a few blocks away to Mrs. Lang's. We... we meet at her house every Wednesday. Well, you went to a club meeting then? Uh, yes. I see. Now, Miss Fenway, about your brother... Excuse me, Lieutenant, there's a Mr. Cosgrove out here. He says he's Arnold Fenway's boss. Oh, that's right, Lieutenant. I telephoned him a little while ago. I thought perhaps he might know something. Oh, I see. Okay, right, extend him in. At this way, sir. Thank you, officer. Good morning, Miss Fenway. Mr. Cosgrove, this is Lieutenant Perez and Mr. Pettigrew. How do you do? How do you do? Oh, I hope I'm not intruding, Miss Fenway. Naturally, I'm greatly concerned over all this. Arnold is a fine man, a loyal employee, and more than that, a friend. I think the world of Arnold... I know, Mr. Cosgrove. What sort of work does he do for you, Mr. Cosgrove? Arnold is our chief accountant, Lieutenant. I'm with the firm Cosgrove and Grant. You've heard of us, I suppose. Your broker's stock and bond. That's right. If there's anything I can do, sure. Uh, the book's here on the desk. They're ours, Lieutenant. Arnold's been working on it. Just routine check. He likes to have everything in top order, you know. A good man. Mary Ellen, shall I get it? Would you, Henry? Miss Fenway, do you know of anyone who would want to harm your brother? Hello? That's you, Arnold? Uh-oh, this is Henry Pettigrew. Oh, Henry? Yes, but she's rather busy at the moment. Well, don't bother. It's not important. I just called to see if she was ill. I-I know. Well, the reason I asked, she didn't come last night. Oh, yes, I'll, um... I'll tell her, Mrs. Lang. You can hardly believe it, can you, Henry? Mary Ellen deliberately lied to the lieutenant. Told him she'd been to a meeting at Mrs. Lang's house last night. Knowing the police could check her every movement and probably would. She must have had a powerful reason to take a chance like that. And you're pretty sure you know what that reason is. The strange disappearance of her brother, Arnold. Suddenly something catches your eye, something in the rose bed just below the window. You slip out of the house, hurry into the garden, and pick up the bright, shiny object, a cufflink. You've seen it before, haven't you, Henry? It's one of Arnold's cufflinks. You stare at it for a moment, and then your gaze wanders to the rose bed again, to the freshly turned earth. You grow weak as Mary Ellen, words come back to you. We're ruining our lives, Henry. I'll find some way to stop you. Find something, Mr. Pettigrew? Oh, oh, Mr. Cosgrove. No, no, I was just looking around. Well, I do hope we learn what's happened to Arnold. This has been a terrible thing, Mr. Pettigrew. A terrible thing. Yes, Mary Ellen? Henry, who was that on the phone before? Mrs. Lang. What, oh, what did she want? I told her you were busy. I said for you to call her when you can. All right. Mary Ellen. Yes, Henry. Why, Mary Ellen? Why did you lie to the lieutenant? Tell him you went to Mrs. Lang's. Well, I, I, I don't know, Henry. Where, where did you go? Arnold and I, we, well, we had a quarrel last night and he became very angry. He struck me. Mary Ellen. Oh, Henry. Oh, no, not my dear. He's never hit me before enough. I was so confused, so angry. I don't remember what happened. I was suddenly walking along the river. It was like a nightmare. And then suddenly I was back at the house. Mary Ellen. Mary Ellen. Oh. No one answered my ring, so I came around back. Thought there might be someone in the garden. Mr. Cosgrove. Good evening, Miss Fenway, Miss Pettigrew. I, uh, happened to be in the neighborhood. Just wondered if there had been any word about Arnold. No, no, there's been no word at all. I see. These things do take time, I suppose. Police doing all they can, of course. Well... We were just going in, Mr. Cosgrove. You'll have a cup of coffee with us? Why, I think that would be fun. Go, Father Mary Ellen, you've had a very trying day. Now you need your rest. Mr. Cosgrove and I'll just run along. Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Pettigrew is right. It's no trouble. See you tomorrow, Mary Ellen. Coming, Mr. Cosgrove. As you walk along the quiet street with Mr. Cosgrove by your side, listening to his small talk, you're certain of something more important on his mind, aren't you, Henry? You're sure he overheard your conversation with Mary Ellen in the garden. He knows she quarreled with Arnold the night he disappeared, that Arnold had struck her. Yes. Cosgrove is sure she's involved in Arnold's disappearance, isn't he? And so are you. And then as you reach your shop door... Uh, Mr. Pettigrew. Yes? About Arnold, the two of you never hit it off very well, did you? Oh, I don't know. He's told me quite a bit about you. His objections and all. Arnold didn't get along with his sister either. What are you driving at, Mr. Cosgrove? Arnold Fenway is a friend of mine. A trusted employee and good friend. I'll do anything in my power to find out what's happened to him. I understand that. If you know anything about his disappearance, even if you think Miss Fenway, his sister, does. Are you insinuating that she... I believe she knows more about this than she cares to tell. So do you. And if you're shielding her... Why, that's ridiculous! Is it? Perhaps the police won't think so. Good night, Mr. Pettigrew. The clock on the church tower is striking eleven as you finally return to Mary Ellen's house. You wonder if Mr. Cosgrove has been to the police. You ring the bell and wait. You ring again. There's no answer. There's a voice from the house next door. Mary Ellen ain't home, Harry. Oh, Mr. Griffin. She left a few minutes ago, Henry. The police came for us. The police? Oh, I see. I see. There's a sixteen-page booklet which signal service stations are offering free. It can make tomorrow's Fourth of July outing and all your other summer trips a lot more pleasant. It's called Lane's Guide, and in it you'll find answers to the questions travelers ask most often. What's a good place to eat? Where's a good place to stay? In addition, this handy pocket-sized booklet, which was prepared by an independent travel organization, contains much other useful information, such as whether prices are low, medium, or high, whether the lodging place is on a beach or has a swimming pool, and in the case of motels, whether kitchens are available. Since Lane's Guide includes 243 cities and towns throughout seven western states, you'll want a copy in your car for all your summer travels. So I'd suggest that you stop at the very next signal station you see to get your copy of Lane's Guide while the supply lands. You'll find that this is just one of many friendly services that independent signal dealers offer to put more pleasure into your driving while you go farther with signal. It's all over, isn't it, Henry? You're certain Mr. Cosgrove has told the police what he suspected, that Mary Ellen is involved in her brother Arnold's disappearance. And now they've come for her, taking her away for questioning. You walk over to your bookstore and sit there in the back room for a long time. There's no doubt in your own mind either. You're sure that Mary Ellen is involved. And you wonder what she did with Arnold and what will happen to her. Then suddenly you're aware of a faint sound, someone tapping the glass on your front door. Oh, of course, Lieutenant, come in. Alphabetical design of yours worked out fine, Henry. We found Arnold about an hour ago. He was dead? No, on the contrary. He was very much alive. But he wouldn't have been for long if it hadn't been for your alphabetical street idea. My idea? That's right. He used that idea for his own ends, Henry. When you insisted Mulberry Street was scheduled for the next crime, he decided to be it. Then his disappearance... Was strictly phony. He messed up his library to make it look good. He was trying to get away. But why? The night Arnold disappeared, he dug up some of the firm's money he'd hidden in the rose bed. The cufflink. That's what made you think Mary Ellen had had something to do with it. That's how Cosgrove knew Arnold was planning a getaway. Cosgrove just told us the whole story. Well, I still don't see how my idea... Funny. Funny the way things work out, Henry. You see, that alphabetical street theory of yours never did make sense to us. But we got to wondering about you and Mary Ellen and decided to cover the next street on your list. Just in case. Next street? Yeah. Well, very not. Well, that would be Arnold's street. We had it covered from one end to the other. Two hours ago at the Olive Street bus terminal, we picked up Arnold with $20,000 on him. He and Cosgrove were working together. Arnold was trying to double-cross him and skip town. But he'd have never made it. Cosgrove was just 20 feet behind him with a loaded 38 in his pocket. 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. Signal has asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speeds, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life... possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Wilms Herbert, Sarah Selby, and Hal March. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen with story by Steve Hampton, 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. Is Marvin Miller speaking? This is C...