 The Whistler presented by the United States Air Forces in Europe. 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. How the Whistler's strange story quadrangled On the edge of Cartertown, a small aging community in Northern California stands the equally aging structure known as Channing House. The house proper, with its wide quandrake on wall and flanking trees, has been the subject of many abutting artists' brush and oils. Jeff Lee Channing interrupts his morning stroll through the grounds to listen to the conversation of the latest artist working on a canvas of Channing House. A girl, slender, young and attractive, talking with a young male companion. Both are too absorbed in work in conversation to notice Jeffrey, although he appears quite interested in what is being said. Now, if you think the place is different, Lee, you should see the inside. I'm quite satisfied here, Ned. The old house is a perfect subject. Old Agnes Channing is something of a subject herself. That means she's a character, always having the place worked over, remodeling, changing, the old girl really keeps Sam on the jump. Sam? Fair taker. Oh. Check them all trade. Been with the Channing family for years. Mrs. Channing, does she live in the big house along Ned? No, there's her nephew, Jeffrey. Friend of mine, by the way, really devoted to the old girl, stays pretty close. Does his best to keep her from brooding. About the colonel, you mean? Yeah. Mrs. Channing claims to warrant the hammer and saw going because it reminds her of the colonel. Keeps him alive in her heart. He was always putting around the place, you know, building one thing another. Hello, Ned. Oh, Jeffrey. Going to order us off the property? Well, no, not if I can win an introduction by allowing you to stay. Certainly. Miss Munson, Jeffrey Channing. How do you do, Mr. Channing? Well, if you're an artist, Mrs. Munson, you must see the inside of Channing House sometimes. Quite picturesque. You'd enjoy it. I would. I really would. Well, we'll arrange it soon. Good morning. Good morning, Mr. Channing. You turn, Jeffrey. Walk away along the path of the house. An attractive, exciting girl, isn't she? And you tell yourself you do want to see her again soon. Suddenly, an odd sound reaches you. Not the sound of carpentry as at Jeffrey. No, the dull, frightening sound of a pick striking against stone. You break into a run. Finally, as you enter the garden, you slow down. You can stare with an expression of relief on your face as you catch sight of Sam, the man of all work. He's only tearing down the old fountain, not the wall. And there's no cause for alarm at all. You continue along the walk and then enter the house. Can't I, Miss? Didn't give you waiting, did I? No, I slept late this morning. Breakfast is ready. Do sit down. Are you out for your usual morning stroll? Uh-huh. I met a friend from town. He brought an artist out. I promised her a look inside. Oh, Jeffrey, I wish you hadn't. Well, no, what harm could there be? Oh, please, I don't want gawking curiosity seekers one way through the house. The memory is here, but they're too sacred. Ah, yes. All right, Aunt Agnes. Pass the marmalade. Very decent of you to understand about my aunt this month. She can be quite stubborn. She isn't being stubborn. She's entitled to privacy with her memories. How did her husband, the Colonel, die? Oh, uh, it was an accident. He was with me. It was a fiction trip. We were out farther than we should have been. A squall came up. Capsized our boat. He was drowned? Yes, yes, that's right. His body was never found. I guess I've always held myself to blame in a way. I suppose that's why I lean over backwards to make things easier for Aunt Agnes. Hello! Hello, Aunt Agnes! I've been looking all over for you there. Jeffrey, that is, Mr. Channing just happened by. He was kind enough to show me the garden. Oh, by the way, Jeff, when is your aunt going to have the big wall around the place torn down? The wall? She's torn down everything else. Well, I rather hope she won't go that far, Ned. Quite a project, I'd say. Why, I've never seen a wall so thick, so messy. Don't be fooled, Ed. It isn't as impressive as it looks. The wall's hollow, right, Jeff? Yes, it is. You want to scream the words, don't you, Jeffrey? Because the wall has been on your mind so much the past five years. Yes, it's hollow, isn't it? And it's one landmark you'll do everything in your power to prevent your aunt from destroying. That's because of what the hollow wall contains. Colonel Channing didn't perish at sea, did he, Jeffrey? No, you killed him in a blind rage when he refused to loan you $5,000 you needed. In the dead of night, you placed his body inside the wall and sealed it up. Then you invented the story of the drowning at sea. And everyone believed it. Everyone, that is, with one possible exception. You've often wondered about Aunt Agnes, haven't you, Jeffrey? Mr. Channing, are you all right? He's dazed, Leah. Over you, I'd say. I just call him Jeffrey, he'll be all right. Yes, oh yes, I'll be all right, Leah. I thought so. Got something else to think about, haven't you, Jeffrey? Something beside Aunt Agnes and this old house. Yes, Ned, I do have something else to think about. Five years, hasn't it, Jeffrey? Five years since you killed old Colonel Channing, hit his body in the hollow walls surrounding Channing House. And you've never been able to leave to stay away for any length of time because of your Aunt Agnes Channing. And her constant remodeling is a threat to your safety. If she ever wanted to have the wall torn down, your five-year-old story of the fishing accident, the Colonel's death by drowning, would be proved a terrible, desperate lie. And that lie would send you to the gas chamber. You wonder now in the days that follow what you can do about it because you know that your interest in Leah Munson, the attractive young artist, is more than a passing one. Each day you'll meet outside the garden, walk together and talk. And she seems to be growing more fond of you day by day. Oh, Jeffrey, I don't know when I'm ever going to finish my painting. He won't let me work. Perhaps I don't want you to finish, Leah. Don't understand. Oh, don't you? Really? Well, I... Leah, you must know the time. I don't want to see you leave Carter Town. But I must leave someday. Why? Jeffrey, I've got a career to think about. I've painted nearly everything here that interests me. Leah, surely you know that I'm in love with you. I don't want you to leave ever. Jeffrey, there's nothing to hold you here now. I mean, only your Aunt Agnes. Why do you ask? You want me to stay. I want to. But I could never stay here long. My plan's my work. I must go abroad soon to study new techniques. And I want you to. I want to go with you. Do you, Jeffrey? Or more to the point. Can you? You've made up your mind, haven't you, Jeffrey? You've got to free yourself of Channing House. And it must be done soon. Or you'll lose, Leah. It's going to take a lot of thinking, isn't it? And then one evening you're in the library, sitting across the chess table from your Aunt. Well, that wasn't a very smart move, Jeffrey. Look. Oh, you see. Yes, I see, Aunt Agnes. You just haven't your mind on the game, Aunt. I wasn't afraid not. Yes, that girl, isn't it, Leah Monson? Why don't you bring her here? I'd like to meet her. I wanted to bring her around a long time ago, but you said... Never mind what I said. Ask her for tea tomorrow. Oh, yes, Sam. Come in, come in. The contractor's giving this estimate, that you asked for. Good. Now, let me see here. Jenkins gave us a better price. Yes, I was sure he would. I'll call him in the morning and give him the order. Yes, ma'am. Night, Miss Channing. Good night, Sam. Let me see. Where were we? What is it this time? Oh, Sam's going to start tearing down the old wall. First thing in the morning. It's happened at last, hasn't it, Jeffrey? The wall. Aunt Agnes is going to have it torn down, and the secret that has remained hidden within it will be revealed. Somehow, you manage to finish out the game of chess, and then hurry up to your room. You pace the floor well into the early morning hours, wondering what to do, how you can stop her. Dawn finds you stretched out of the bed, still fully closed, staring at the ceiling. And then suddenly you're aware of a sound outside. You leap out of bed, and hurry to the window. Rain. It's raining. Good morning, Aunt Agnes. Oh, it's a miserable morning. Absolutely miserable. I do so detest rain. It's so depressing. Oh, I don't know. I rather like it. You look rather tired this morning. Did you sleep well? I didn't sleep at all. We're in for a few more days of it, according to the paper. I'll let you have some of my sleeping powder. Now, if you don't mind, Aunt Agnes, I'd rather you didn't. Oh, nonsense. I'll put them on your night table. As well as the sudden change in weather has altered your plans about the wall. Yes, but I'll get around to it as soon as the rain's over. I've made up my mind to that, Jeffrey. Yes. I'm sure you have. As soon as the storm is over, your aunt will have Sam begin tearing down the wall. It continues to rain all that day and the next. It gives you time to think things out and decide what you must do. Through it all, Sam is an idol. Your aunt is put into work on the staircase. And the sound of the hammer and saw echoes throughout the house from morning till night. And then on the fourth day, the storm's still raging outside. You've made up your mind. You know for certain what you must do. But just how you're going to do it isn't quite clear, is it? No. That isn't until late in the evening. You're alone in the study when your aunt enters. Oh, there you are, Jeffrey. I wondered where you've gone to. You and Sam had your heads together in the library. I didn't want to serve you. Making plans for the assault on the wall, were you? No. As a matter of fact, we didn't discuss it at all. When Sam couldn't finish up with the stairway, he quit rather suddenly this afternoon. Oh, I had something more important for him to do. Well, I'm rather tired of having to pick my way through all that lumber, those loose steps and bits of torn carpeting every time I go up and down the stairs. He'll finish up in the morning. What are you doing, dear? Fixing some hot chocolate. Just a thing for a rainy evening. Hot chocolate. That sounds rather nice. Want me to fix you one? Yes, I'd like to try it. I don't know why the idea didn't occur to me before. Perhaps that's just what I need to. Oh, then I could throw away my sleeping powders. Yes, that's right. You probably could. You'd like that, wouldn't you, dear? Well, now you know I never really approved of your taking sleeping powders. Well, neither did anyone else. And accidents can happen. Oh, nonsense, nonsense. Now, about that hot chocolate. Well, I'll have to heat some more milk. Why don't you go upstairs to your room? Oh, that would be nice, Jeffrey. Very nice. You stand there, staring after her as she leaves the study. The way you suddenly become clear, Jeffrey, is perfect, isn't it? All your aunt's friends are well aware of the fact that she takes sleeping powders. All of caution to her about it. A few minutes later, you hurry upstairs with her hot chocolate in your hand. Step inside your room. And there on the nightstand, where she placed them for you a few days ago, the sleeping powders. You'll quickly empty all of them into the cup. Then cross the hall and go into her room. You'll find her sitting in the big, easy chair by the window. You're not going to turn in yet? Oh, no. I thought I'd sit up a while and read a bit. Oh. Here's your hot chocolate. What a delightful aroma. You'd better drink it while it's hot. Well, of course, Jeffrey. Good night, Aunt Agnes. And sleep tight. Good night. Good night. Back in the study downstairs, you sip your hot drink. The hour goes by. The house is still. You sit there listening to the storm outside, and then step to the window and peer into the darkness. And as you do, you will race into the entry hall. Your Aunt Agnes is lying at the foot of the stairs. Aunt Agnes, she's dead, isn't she, Jeffrey? The fall killed her instantly. She must have tripped over a loose board on the stairway. An accident, Jeffrey, and you had no part in it. Or did you? You've got to make certain. The cup of hot chocolate with the deadly sleeping powder you fixed for your Aunt is on the nightstand next to her bed. But you see, she hasn't touched it. You sigh with relief. Your Aunt's death really was accidental. Then you pick up the cup. Huh? The sound of the bell startles you. The cup slips from your fingers and spills the chocolate over the pillow on the bed. A dark stain begins to spread slowly over the pillowcases. With your Aunt killed accidentally by a fall down the stairway, there's been ruin things for you, couldn't it, Jeffrey? You can't afford to have any trace of the deadly drink containing the sleeping powder is found. Quickly you pick up the stained pillow and hurry back to your room. Stop the pillow inside far to the back. Close the drawer. Oh, I'm glad you're here. Come in. Come in, come in. Where's Jeffrey? What's the matter? It's Aunt Aideness. Look. Over there. How did it happen? I don't know. I found her just now when I came down to answer the door. She's dead, Jeffrey. Yes, I know. She must have been coming down to answer your ring and she kept over a loose step. Sam's been working on the stairs for the past few days. Yes, yes, I see. Well, Jeffrey, I think we best call the police. The police? Well, yes. An accident, of course, but they'll have to be notified. Oh, yes, yes, of course. Well, Sheriff, what do you think? No doubt about it, I'd say. That's the way it happened, all right. Mrs. Channing tripped over those loose boards up there. Poor Aunt Aideness. I'm real sorry about this, Jeff. Real sorry. It's a great loss, my boy, for all of us. By the way, Judge, what were you doing here tonight? Why, Mrs. Channing wanted to see me. As you know, I've been her attorney for years. Yes. She sent Sam around in the car to pick me up. Oh, what was on her mind? Well, when she called, she wanted to discuss her financial matter, but she didn't say what it was. She did make quite a point of my being here at 11, though. Well, that's odd. When she went upstairs, I thought she was going to retire for the night. Perhaps you did, my boy. I don't know that she considered our appointment a secret, but I can assure you she had no idea of going to sleep when she called me this evening. I don't quite understand. Well, it's certainly not important now, Jeffrey. No, I suppose not. Can I be of any help to you, Sheriff? No, Judge, I don't think so. Jeffrey? I guess I don't have any more questions to ask you, either. For as I'm concerned, your aunt's death was accidental. Purely accidental. It's all over now, isn't it, Jeffrey? Aunt Agnes' death was an accidental one in the Sheriff's own words. While you had planned to poison her with an overdose of sleeping powders, you had absolutely nothing to do with it. You're no longer a prisoner in Channing House. Now you're free to marry Leah Munson. Go wherever you please, aren't you? Sitting now in the study, the judge with you, you can hear the sheriff and his men moving about in the hall outside. Presently, the study door opens and the sheriff moves into the room. Oh, Jeff. Yes, Sheriff? I've been having a rather interesting conversation with your caretaker, Sam Lewis. He seems to think your aunt's death wasn't accidental. What? What's that? He seems to think that she was pushed down the stairs and that you did it. I... I pushed... Oh, really, Sheriff? Why would I want to do a thing like that? For the money? The $50,000 Sam found hidden in the stairway this afternoon? $50,000. In the stairway? Mm-hmm. Sam turned it over to your aunt, Mrs. Channing, right after he found it. Well, that's probably why she phoned me to come over this evening. She said nothing to me, Judge. Look, Sheriff, I called him by Sam, Mrs. Channing told him the colonel had hidden a large sum of money somewhere in the house, short time before he died. Seems the colonel never got around to telling her where he'd hidden it. That's why she's been having a hard time looking for it. Didn't know about that, huh? Sheriff, you've got to believe me. I didn't know. Sam seems to think you did. So did Mrs. Channing. She told Sam she was sure that was the only reason you'd been sticking around so close to these past five years. Waiting for them to find the money so you could get your hands on it. It looks like she was right. What do you mean by that? We just found something, Jeff. Something I'm sure will convince any jury that you killed your aunt. Me killed Aunt Agnes? No. I'm going to have to rest you, Jeff. We found all the money Sam turned over to your aunt. But I didn't! Oh, yes, you did. We found the whole $50,000 right where you put it. Stuffed in the back of a bureau drawer in your bedroom closet. Hidden in your aunt Agnes' pillow. Listen next week when once again, the United States Air Force is in Europe.