 And now, stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who's guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In 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. Yes, friends, it's time for the Whistler, rated by independent research, the most popular West Coast program in radio history. Oh, the Whistler's strange story. Though it was passed for, the Florida sun was hot and blinding. And Christine wished for the 20th time she hadn't left her dark glasses back at the hotel. But she wished too that she weren't so tired of walking. That the New York doctor who had prescribed a rest for her had had sense enough not to recommend Florida at the height of the winter season. And she wished fervently that somewhere in Crescent Bay she'd find a place to live at something less than $20 a day. It was despondency more than anything else that made her stop before the big house with a tall white wall around it. Look down the walk to the door and decide to give it a try. It was a big house. There must be extra rooms. And they couldn't do more than say no. Yes? Well, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you could help me. You see, my doctor has ordered me here for my health. I arrived here before yesterday. Come in, please. What did you say? Come in. Oh, thank you. This way. My name's Christine McKay. I'm staying at the hotel now, but I really can't afford to stay there any longer. Oh, sorry. I didn't see that chair. It's so bright outside and it's so dark in here. Oh, never mind that. Come over here and sit down. Thank you. Now, have you decided where you want to stay? Decided. Well, this is an older house, but I think you'll be comfortable. I could let you have that room at the top of the stairs. It has its own private bathroom. You mean that I... And there's an acre or so of garden inside the wall in the summer house. I'm sure you'd be happy here. Wait, wait a minute. You mean I can have the room? Well, I want you to take it. I'm a little lonely here and, well, I'd like to have someone around. What about the rent? Well, would $10 be too much? $10 a week? Well, let's make it $7.50. Is that all right? It's wonderful. You'll take the room then. Of course. You don't know what this means to me, Mrs... Drake. Mrs. Henry Drake. Oh, here. Now, I want you to move in right away tonight. Here's the key and I'll write down the address so you'll be sure to find the house again. Now, let's see. Oh, here's a piece of paper. $12.20, Biscayne Road. There. There you are. Thank you, Mrs. Drake. Thank you so much. Now, now, you run along and get your things. When can you come back? Well, I've an awful lot to do in town. I may be late. Well, you can let yourself in with your key and go right up to your room on the left at the head of the stairs. But...but you will be here tonight. Of course, Mrs. Drake. I'll be here tonight. It's after 11 when you return, Christine. And you're dead tired as you let yourself in the front door and walk up the stairs to your room. You're glad the family, if there is one, is asleep. That there'll be no introductions and polite conversation to keep you from bed. And it's a lovely bed. A lovely room. Much nicer than anything you'd expected. As you undress, you make a mental note to remember Mrs. Drake and your prayers tomorrow night when you're not so tired. And 10 minutes later, you're asleep. But it's a peculiar sleep. Blackness at first and complete rest. And then later, something that seems to intrude. Something annoying, almost frightening. And then suddenly, you find yourself sitting bolt upright in bed, listening. For some reason, you're trembling as you get out of bed. Walk to the door and open it a crack. A man passes the door of your room, close enough for you to see what he's carrying. It's the body of Mrs. Drake. With the scarf she was wearing this afternoon, tightly knotted around her neck. You know now what she meant, don't you, Christine? When she told you she'd feel better with someone else in the house. She was afraid this man was going to kill her. You can hear his footsteps on the boardwalk outside, in the garden. And rather than take a chance on facing him somewhere down there in the darkness, you decide to lock yourself in your room and wait until morning. You turn the key in the lock. And a few minutes later, you hear his steps on the boardwalk again, coming back to the house. There's no more sleep, of course. Nothing but a kind of paralysis. And five eternal hours before it's light, and your watch reads seven o'clock. He doesn't know you're here, Christine. And he mustn't know until you've had a chance to see the police. Last you brace yourself. Open the door and walk softly to the stairway. I beg your pardon. Did I frighten you? Well, I'm sorry, but you see, you frightened me, too. I didn't know I had a visitor. Well, I thought I could leave without disturbing you and Mrs. Drake. I plan to take a morning walk down to the beach. Did you say Mrs. Drake? Why, yes. Didn't she tell you? Tell me what? She rented me the room at the head of the stairs yesterday afternoon. She... No. No, she didn't tell me that. When did you come here? Last night. I was a little late and... What time? I don't know. Tell me what time? I think about eleven. I see. If you don't mind, I'll... Wait a minute. Why did you come to this house? Well, I came to Florida for my health. Health? What's wrong with you? Nerves, mostly. I need a rest. Oh, nerves. Did you... Did you sleep well last night? Fairly well. Oh, goodness. Nothing like sleep for a case of nerves. Now, if you don't mind... No, no, no. Don't go. Let me fix you some breakfast. What about it? I think I'd better go. Ridiculous going off without breakfast. Just a cup of coffee. Please! I won't take no for an answer. I insist I... Why are you looking at me like that? You don't intend to let me go, do you? Oh, don't be silly now. There's no point in bluffing any longer. Why don't you have Mrs. Drake fix us some breakfast? Yes, yes, I suppose I shouldn't bluff any longer. You're in a pretty bad way, young lady. You see, that's why I asked you about your illness. Nerves do funny things. What do you mean? My wife isn't here. She's been in Fort Lauderdale for a week. I'm at a loss as to how you got in and where you got the amazing idea that she rented a room to you. I saw you last night. Walking down the hall. Carrying her body in your arms with the stuff. You do need a rest, don't you? A nightmare like that is... Come, tell me it was a nightmare. I saw it with my own eyes. Where, my dear, easy... Let me go! Of course, of course. I'll let you go. As a matter of fact, I want you to go. You mean that... Well, how do you think it looks for a man to have a pretty girl in the house with his wife out of town? I've got a reputation, you know. Now, you run upstairs and get your things. And if you insist on leaving without breakfast, I'm afraid I can't drive you to where you're going. You'll have to call a taxi. And, um... A word of advice, my dear. Take care of yourself. Will you? You do need a rest. Go back to the Whistler. Yes, Chris. You saw it with your own eyes. And this man, this murderer, has the colossal effronterator tell you that you were dreaming. He escorts you down to the taxi, smiles that you patronizingly as he helps the driver with your luggage. And then he waves to you as you drive off. Driver. Yes, ma'am? Forget the hotel. I want you to take me to police headquarters. It all fits, doesn't it, Chris? The strangeness in Mrs. Drake's manner when she rented you the room yesterday was fear. She knew this man was going to kill her. But it's tragic that she didn't know how soon it would happen. You know exactly what you're going to say when you get to police headquarters. And an hour later, you're talking to the desk side. There were two in the morning that a noise awakened me. I... I went to the door, opened it just in time to see him walk past, carrying the body of this woman, his wife, I think. She was strangled with a scarf. Where'd this happen? 1220 Biscayne Road. What was that? 1220 Biscayne Road. Wait a minute, lady. You must have that wrong. What was the woman's name? Mrs. Henry Drake. Do you know what you're saying? I've made it plain enough. He's a murderer. I want you to arrest him. Wait a minute. I'm tired of waiting. I waited outside for half an hour to get in here. Take me to the chief of police or whoever your superior is. I'll do better than that, lady. I will. I'll take you in to see the commissioner. Come on. Here, here we are. Go ahead. Good morning, commissioner. Good morning, Joe. What's the matter, young lady? Still troubled with nerves? There's no point in my staying here, Sergeant. Oh, not at all. Close the door, Joe. Yes, sir. My name is Henry Drake, young lady. I'm police commissioner here in Crescent Bay. Commissioner, she was telling me some yawn about it. Yes, yes. I know, Joe. She told it to me about an hour ago. It wasn't a yawn. It was the truth and you know it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll find someone who'll do something about it. Just a minute now. I've tried to be lenient with you because I know you're not well. I want to convince you, however, that you are making a very serious charge. I'm quite aware of that. Very well. Joe? Yes, commissioner? Call in Chief of Police Norton and Captain Evans of Homicide. If this lady is going to tell her story, I think she should tell it to the proper people. And that's all you have to say, Miss McCain. That's all. I know you can understand my embarrassment, gentlemen. Where has she got that key to my house is a puzzle, of course. I think, though, that the fact that she admits that she came here for her health or nerves might account for her strange dream and the imaginary woman who rented her the room. I tell you, I saw it with my own eyes. Just a minute, commissioner. Yes, Chief? Where is your wife? Fort Lauderdale, of course. You know I sent her there a week ago. That's impossible. I talked to her yesterday. He's lying. I tell you, if you'll only check. What about that, commissioner? It's all right with me. Send a wire, please, to the manager of the Kenworth Arms Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. Yes, sir. Advise, return wire, whether a Mrs. Henry Drake is a registered guest as of today. And if she is there now. Uh, just a moment. Will that be satisfactory, Miss McCain? I think so. All right. Send it out, Miss Dixon. We'll wait here for an answer. Come in. Here's the answer to that wire, Mr. Drake. Oh, good. Here you are, Miss McCain. I suppose you read it. Mrs. Henry Drake has been our guest since the 16th. Sitting in lobby at this moment. Graves. Well, I guess that ought to settle that. It doesn't settle anything. It only means some woman is staying at that hotel posing as Mrs. Drake. What now, chief? She's pretty persistent. How far is Fort Lauderdale? A couple of hours. Do you know Mrs. Drake, have you met her? Of course I know her. Well, let's go down there right now. I'll prove to you that this woman in Fort Lauderdale is an imposter. Commissioner, I know how you feel about all this. It's the craziest situation I ever saw. But I think it'll be embarrassing to turn this girl loose until we've satisfied her she's wrong. You're absolutely right, chief. Get a car ready. I'll drive down there with you. Third floor. She's in 314 down to your right. Thank you. I hope this will satisfy you, Miss McKay. It will. You'll admit it all a bad dream if my wife is in this room. I'll tell you after I see her. Here we are. 314. It's Henry, darling. Henry? What on earth? Oh. It's a long story. I'm afraid. Come in, please. You know Chief Norton, my dear, and this is Miss McKay. Henry, is something wrong? I'm sorry. Henry sent me here for a rest, you know. I'm afraid I'm not being very hospitable. We don't want to upset you, darling, but Miss McKay seems to have two very persistent ideas. One, that you rented the room at the top of the stairs to her yesterday afternoon. And two, that I strangled you with a silk scarf at 2 o'clock this morning. Oh, no. Why, Henry, I don't understand. Don't look at me, my dear. I don't understand it either. Well, sorry to bother you, Mrs. Drake. We felt we had to clear it up in the lady's mind before we turned to loose. Of course. Yes, of course. Well, young lady, I... I don't quite know what to say to you. As you can see, I... I am alive. She's a very unusual girl. She's got a will of iron. I was bowled over this morning to find her in the downstairs hallway about to leave. She'd got a key from Lord Knows Where and blithely spent the night in our guest room, turned up at headquarters this morning with the story. Are you satisfied now, young lady? This... this is his wife? Yes, this is Mrs. Drake. Is she the one you think granted you the room? I... I don't know. It was so dark I couldn't see her face very well. Oh, it was too dark, huh? Four in the afternoon and two dark. You were here yesterday afternoon, weren't you, Agnes? Of course I was. I was playing bridge. Please, please... Well, I think I've had enough. Come on, Chief. Let's go back to the office. No, Henry. Wait a minute. I'm trying to sink. You don't really know this girl, Henry? Agnes, of course I don't know her. I see. I wonder, perhaps this could be the election. Isn't it coming up next month? Yes, but what's that got to do with it? Well, couldn't it be that, well, that she's part of some sort of plot to discredit you, make you lose that election? Oh, listen, Mrs. Drake, believe me, please, I... I believe that's what you're up to, young lady. This whole fantastic story is a plot against my husband. Henry, I'm coming back to Crescent Bay. I'm not going to leave you alone up there another minute. Oh, no, no. See here, Agnes. That won't be necessary. But I want to, Henry. I want to come back. I want to help you. But you rest, Agnes. We decided you'd stay here, at least, from the 16th to the 28th. Now, your rest is important, remember? I know... Please, please. All of you, I... I'll forget about it. I'll admit I'm wrong. Just... Please, take me back to the hotel. You're bewildered now, aren't you, Chris? Frustrated and helpless. Yes. As you pace the floor of your hotel room, the past 24 hours does seem like a dream. And you almost believe you did have a nightmare. That is, until you reach into your purse for a cigarette and run across a scrap of yellow paper. The one the lady who rented the room gave you with her address on one side. 1220 Biscayne Road. That's not a nightmare, is it, Chris? The address she wrote and handed to you. Slowly, you turn the torn scrap of yellow paper over. It's the top part of a telegram. The printed Western Union heading and part of the line of code letters. A telegram, Chris. A long chance, but it's worth investigating. This telegram might shed some light on your bewildering situation. You rush to the Western Union office. I'm sorry, miss. That's not our code. It belongs to Palm Cove, about 20 miles north of here. Here's the copy of the wire, ma'am. It is filed on the 4th. Thank you. Mrs. Willetta Drake. 506 April Way, Seattle, Washington. Happy to settle on your terms, provided you come here in person between the 16th and 28th Henry. Is that what you wanted, ma'am? Yes. Yes, this is just what I wanted. Wait a minute, Miss McCabe. Listen to me, will you, Sergeant? I've got to see the Chief. They told me he was down here working tonight. You can't see him. That's all there is to it. I've got proof, this telegram. Sure, sure. You had proof this morning, too, you did. Now run along and be a good girl. I've been on duty 12 hours straight now, and I'm in no mood to play games again. But if you just let me see Chief Norton for a minute. You hear what I said? The answer is no. You're sure you're right now, aren't you, Chris? There were two Mrs. Drake's. Mrs. Willetta Drake of Seattle and Mrs. Agnes Drake of Crescent Bay. And you know now that Willetta's body lies hidden somewhere inside the high wall that surrounds the Drake House. As you ride back to the hotel in the taxi, you try to think. And suddenly you remember something else about your nightmare. Henry's footsteps on that boardwalk out to the pergola and back of the house. You know you're taking a chance, but you have to act now. Tomorrow might be too late. Driver. Yes, sir? I've changed my mind. Take me to 1220 Biscayne Road. Will you wait, please? Right. I don't think I'll be long, but be sure to wait, please. The house is dark as you walk through the garden past it and out to the boardwalk in the pergola. You're sure the body is somewhere near the boardwalk. You start in the pergola itself and begin lighting matches. There's nothing under the window seats. No signs of fresh dirt in the shrubbery around it. In the tangle of book and veer climbing over the summer house. In the rose beds. The tool shed. The heart house. The shallow ornamental well next to the boardwalk. Ten minutes pass. The matches are gone now and you've found nothing. Not a sign. There's nothing to do but go back. I'm sorry you did that, Miss McKay. It's you. You found her, didn't you? Under the boardwalk? Under the boardwalk. Oh, it's too bad. Yes. Yes, it's too bad. Her name was Willetta, wasn't it? She was your first wife. She was my present wife, too. You see, I... I found myself in a very difficult position. Bigamy is an extraordinary problem. Bigamy? That's not the... the most unfortunate part, though. You are such a nice girl, so... so determined, so fine. I am not going to enjoy killing you, too. Don't be absurd. There's a taxi out there waiting for me. No, no, no, you see, I dismissed the taxi five minutes ago. Uh... shall we walk into the house? The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. And now, back to the Whistler. There's no turning back now, is there, Chris? You're sure Henry Drake is going to kill you? And his grip on your arm, so tight that your hand turns cold, tells you he means what he says. Before you can even think to cry out, the heavy door is closed behind you. I... I wish there was some other way. I knew I'd have to kill you sooner or later when you told me you'd been in the house all night. Please listen to me. I knew then that you had seen it. You couldn't help seeing if there was a struggle and we let her cry it out. I'd hoped I could bluff you out of it down at headquarters, not for my sake, believe me. It was for yours. I didn't want to kill you, too. But now I... I have to... It goes me! You'll never cover it up this way! Please don't! But I'd find you two together. Agnes, you shouldn't have come. I told you not to come. I know, Henry. And now I see why. Please, Agnes, you don't understand. I understand more than you know, Henry. Do you think I'm blind? I've known for a long time that there was another woman in your life. When you insisted that I go to Fort Lauderdale for a while, I knew why you wanted me out of the way, so that you and this woman... Oh, no, Mrs. Drake, you're wrong. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Agnes, you're so very wrong. You're upset. You don't know what you're saying. You're wrong. I know what I'm doing. No, Agnes. No, not a gun. You humiliated me long enough, Henry. I didn't want to embarrass either of us before Chief Norton. That story, that trumped-up, thinly veiled story that two of you brought with you to Fort Lauderdale. What a fool you must think I am! Yes, Mrs. Drake, if you'll only listen to me... Get her out! Get her out right now, Henry, or I'll kill you! Agnes... I mean it! I won't stand for any of this any longer! Tell her to leave here, to leave Crescent Bay! You heard her, Miss McCabe. I... I don't know what to do. Get out, I tell you! But I will! I'll shoot him! You'd better do as she says. If I go, Mr. Drake, you realize where I'm going, what I'm going to do, don't you? Yes, Miss McCabe. I know exactly where you're going and just what you're going to do. And this time, I think they'll believe you. But I don't seem to have very much choice in the matter. Do I?