 At this time last week, CBS was broadcasting reports of the Kathy Fiscus tragedy direct from San Marino. Because of improvised emergency conditions, communications between our master control room and the CBS newsmen at the scene were severed at 8.30, and we were unable to immediately continue broadcasting from the scene. Because of these conditions, we decided to return to our normal broadcast schedule with the understanding that if an official announcement should be made during the ensuing program, it would be interrupted for the release of the announcement. We regret that we were unable to continue the San Marino broadcast at that moment. This was a decision of the Columbia Broadcasting System, and not that of any sponsor. The signal oil program. Yes, the signal oil program, the Whistler. Whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. And I know many things before 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 signal oil program, the Whistler, rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. And signal gasoline is tops too, tops in quality. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And signal is the famous Go Farther gasoline. So look for the signal circle sign in yellow and black that identifies independently operated signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Sleep, my pretty one. A few months before, Jean would have dismissed the whole idea of having her fortune told as ridiculous. But with marriage to a handsome young doctor just around the corner, things like tearoom fortune tellers suddenly seemed important and exciting. So she gave in without argument when her friend Betty suggested they leave their table and visit Madame Zorga and her alcove behind the fringe red curtains in the corner. And as the old woman gazed into her crystal and rambled on, Jean found somehow she was taking it all seriously. A little too seriously. To see. You will be quiet, please. You will concentrate on the crystal with me. Max, be terribly shocked. He knew I was doing this. Please, Signorina. Oh, I'm sorry. It is coming. They packed now. The clouds packed. I see a number. The number 13. And now the number three. It is a date. The 13th day of the third month. March 13. I gaze deeper. Again the crystal clear. And I see the letter J. And now the letter V. Your initials, Jean. JV, what happened? I told you. Go on, Madame Zorga. I cannot go on. Oh, but there must be something. I have told you. The image fades. The clouds close in. The reading is finished. Is something wrong? Of course there is. It says me right of falling for this hocus pocus. It is not hocus pocus, Signorina. If you must know, I will tell you. There is no future for JV after the 13th day of March. Why, that's this way. Never mind, Betty. Here you are, Madame Zorga. I better get back to the laboratory. It's late. And, um, don't mention this to Max, will you, dear? If he ever caught me going to fortune tellers, he'd get himself a new lab assistant and a new fiance. I'm late, darling. I had lunch with Betty. She insisted on a tea room across town. You know how that is. Here. Miss me, doctor? That's a silly question. Of course I miss you, dear. Hand me that beaker, will you? I've been up to my ears around here. Yeah. Excuse me. You're so tight. Where'd you pick up the cold? I don't know. I have to do something for it. May I see you a minute, Mitch? Oh, yes, Dr. Olson. Be with you in a minute. All right. Mitch, uh, Dr. Davies tells me you want to try your new drug, E37, on one of his encephalitic patients. Yeah, that's right. The man's been in a coma for three weeks. I think E37 can cure him. You think? As head of this institute, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse you my permission. The fact that you injected a bunch of rats with a virus of sleeping sickness... But you don't understand, doctor. Those rats had sleeping sickness with all the symptoms. Double vision, sleepiness, fever? My drug E37 cured every last one. That doesn't mean it's safe for a human being. I'd hoped you'd remember the last hopeless patient it was tried on. How long did he last, Mitch? Was it 10 seconds or 20? But I told you I found what was wrong. I've eliminated the toxic factor. Oh, you've eliminated the toxic factor. This institute will not experiment with human lives. I absolutely forbid you giving Davies this drug, and that's final. Couldn't help hearing it, Max. The transom was... Yeah. It seems my love that my work for the past year has been dedicated to a batch of white rats. There ought to be some way that you... There is. Just one. The drug's got to be proven on a human patient. Olsen knows that. For thousands of years, this disease has been killing human beings like dogs. And Olsen says we can't afford to take a chance. Well, darling, he's thinking of the institute. Well, I'm thinking of humanity. There's always a risk. That's how we learn. That's how we progress. That's science. Jean. Yes? Jean, will you help me? Why, of course, darling. I'm gonna test my formula. I'm gonna make the test, and Olsen need never know about it. What kind of a test? On a human subject. But who can you... Darling, listen to me. You love me. Yes, Max. You... you trust me. Trust you? You've got to have faith in me, darling. It means everything. Of course I have faith in you, Max. I have an aunt living outside Spokane. We can drive up there tonight. Well, I don't understand, Max. How can you make a test on a human subject? Who can you... Leave that to me, darling. I'm gonna inject the subject with a virus. Then follow it at the peak of the attack with E37. It's the only way I can show Olsen. But you haven't told me who you... You said you trusted me, Jean. Did you mean it? Yes, Max. Good. Come on now. Let's start packing the equipment. Careful with that vial, Jean. It'll take us days to reproduce that drug. I'm wrapping it in cotton. Excuse me. There you are, Max. Well, that's not to do it. You can close up the bag. Now, hold still a moment, dear. Why? What are you... Oh! It does hold still. Max, what is this? I'm giving you a shot for that cold of yours. Can't have you sick at a time like this. I feel a little faint. I know. It always affects you this way. That's why I didn't warn you. I don't like injections. Max, why did you... I told you, dear, it's for your cold. You'd better have faith in the doctor, darling. Yes, Max, of course. Good. Feel better now? Yeah, I suppose so. Let's go then. It's five or six hour drive, and I... Well, Max, aren't you going to leave word where we're going? Of course not. I don't want anyone to know where we are or what we're doing until... until it's over. With the prologue of sleep, my pretty one, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. I don't have to tell you how automobiles have changed or how driving conditions have changed in recent years. But tonight I want to tell you about an amazing new change in gasoline. A gasoline scientifically engineered to help your car take fullest advantage of today's driving conditions. It's new Signal Ethel, the new motor fuel that's so vastly improved, so superior in every way, you can actually feel the difference. Because today's traffic is heavier, new Signal Ethel is engineered to let you inch along smoothly at a snail's pace without bucking. Because stop signs are everywhere today, new Signal Ethel is engineered to give you eager flashing pickup when you get the go signal. Because today's highways are broader, smoother, swifter, new Signal Ethel has wonderful new power that makes the miles fairly fly by. And because many of today's motors have higher compression, new Signal Ethel has higher anti-knock to make hill climbing a pleasure. To actually feel this difference in your own car, just pry a tank full of new Signal Ethel. See if you don't agree with the delighted drivers who are saying new Signal Ethel is tops. The decision is made, isn't it, Gene? And you're on your way now to the little farmhouse near Spokane, where it will be decided rules are no rules, whether the contents of the cotton-wrapped vial in Max's valise are a life-saving drug or a deadly poison. You want to help Max now when he needs you most. But as you guide the car north through the chill March night, you can't help feeling uneasy as if something is terribly wrong. And in spite of your belief in Max, you wonder how far he'd go to prove his cure. Can you find yourself thinking about the shot for your cold that Max gave you? You glance sideways at him at the solid set of his jaw. Wonder who the human subject is he's so vague about. His almost fanatic zeal for his work, his determination that science must come before all else. What's the matter, dear? You're...you're sure you're quite right in this. Huh? Well, I mean, if Dr. Olson would have found out, you'd lose your position. If I succeed, Olson won't matter much. I'll have offers from every institute in the country. And if you fail? You matter less. Oh, Max! Max! Good Lord, Jean. Watch the road. I don't know, Max. Well, what's the matter? Put that car for a moment up. I thought I saw two of them. The road's pretty narrow. I can see that. Oh, there's the house up ahead. I'm glad the snow held off. We're in for a late blizzard. Oh, there we are. There's the old pump house. The apple tree. Oh, watch it. There's an old stump on the right. Hey, if you don't mind, Max, I've driven over 200 miles of slippery roads safely. I think I can handle a country lane without advice. Sorry. Max, I... I don't know what's the matter with me. I just don't feel like myself. Well, this must be Jean. Come in. How do you do? Come in. I declare Max you got mighty good taste. Well, thank you. Don't bother. She can't hear you, Jean. What? She's stone deaf. Best is to let her go on her way. She will anyway. Oh, I see. Come on to the kitchen. Gotta get this stuff on ice. I'm glad we're warm again. I said, don't say that. You're just tired. I guess so. Oh, here we are. Same old ice box. The clear place here at the back for the vials. You got him, Max? Right here. Max, I... I don't like to keep asking this, but... Yeah? What is it? Where do you expect to find anyone with sleeping sickness around here? I don't. What? Very simple. If there are no cases of encephalitis at my disposal, there's only one answer. To create one. Max. To inject the subject with the virus. Then after a good case is developed, use E37. We're completely isolated here. Where can you find... I've already found the subject, Jean. Jean, look what you've done. I didn't sleep. I'm sorry. Why did it have to be this one? E37. Jean, the cure. My cure. Every bit of it was in that vial. Max, listen to me. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe you better forget about E37. Treat the patient in the ordinary way. Must be a hospital somewhere, Max. Don't be ridiculous. My E37 is our only chance. I injected 20,000 units of sleeping sickness virus. Fatal dose? Yes, a fatal dose. We've got to start working on another batch of E37 right now. Come on. You follow Max down the dim old hallway in a daze like a figure in a nightmare. The kind where you run slowly as if through water trying to escape while nameless shapes come closer and closer. And though you still refuse to believe to recognize it, one of the shapes is fear. Eh. The fear that Max might be using you with the subject in this dangerous experiment. Here we are. Why, it's a laboratory. It used to be an Agnes's pantry. It turned into a lab for me when I was a boy. But Max, this is nothing like your laboratory in town. How can you expect a synthesizer? Sure, it's crude, but it's all we've got. Between what I brought and what's here, we can duplicate E37 with a little luck. How tired are you, Jean? I'm all right. Once we start the process, we can't let up for a second. Come on. Let's get to work. And so it begins, Jean. It's midnight when the two of you have straightened out the dusty laboratory, cleaned the glassware, the retorts, and Bunsen burners. Three in the morning when the first solution is ready to run. Once more, you're sure your fears are groundless. Max loves you. He wouldn't think of using you risking your life for this experiment. Make a note of the time, will you darling? Right. March 10th, 5.20 a.m. First solution completed. 100 feet. Max. What's the matter? My eyes, I can't seem to focus. I'm seeing double. Sit down. Rest a moment. You'll be all right. March 11th, 10.15 a.m. Fourth discolored, just coming off. It's March 12th, dear. You've lost a day somewhere. Of course. I don't seem to be conscious of time anymore. But through this, I'm going to build a monument to black coffee. Hasn't any effect on me anymore. What time is it now? 4 p.m. Yeah, 26 hours since we ran that solution. I'll be right by now. Got the beaker ready? Yes. Himax, sterilized. Steady. Your hand is shaking like a leaf. I can't seem to control it. I guess I'm pretty tense too. Equipment's obsolete. It's a gamble anyway you look at it. Oh, we've got a good chance. You've never been afraid of taking chances, have you, Max? Why do you say that? Even if it meant gambling with our happiness, your work would come first. Science comes before everything, doesn't it, Max? That's not a fair question. I think it's appropriate right now. What do you mean? Oh, Max, I love you. I'll always love you no matter what happens. I want you to know that. Dean, this is no time. There's still time to drop this crazy business. There's still time to give the patient one of the standard treatments. What are you talking about? Max, let me call Dr. Olsen, please. Oh, I see. You're giving up. Oh, it's not that, Max. Well, I'm not giving up. We're going through with this. My experiment's successful. I want to know my cure alone is responsible. And if not... Go on, Max. What if it isn't? Then I'll just have to face the music. I see. Where are you going? To get some more coffee. You're glad the telephone's at the other end of the house, that you'll have a chance to get the call through to Dr. Olsen before Max has a chance to stop you. You wait for the operator to answer, trying to fit the words together in a way that will tell Olsen the story without going too hard on Max. There's no other explanation, is there, Jean? The dull pain in the back of your head, the nervous disturbance, the deadly fatigue, the double vision, can only mean one thing. There's little doubt in your mind now. Max's aunt Agnes is obviously all right. So you're almost certain Max has used you as a human guinea pig. His belief in the effectiveness of his drug is one over his love for you. Trying to make a phone call, are you? The line's been down for hours. Count to the store. Oh, you look all worn out, child. No wonder the way you two have been working. Wait a minute. You better get the red neck child I've never seen such dark circles under anybody's eyes. Miss, listen, let a child. Why are you shaking me like that? All right, I know. Take my pencil by the telephone. Now watch. Agnes, watch. What are you writing? Oh. Max trying dangerous experiment. Stop him. My life and death. My life and death. My life and death. My life and death. Do you understand that? I wouldn't dream of such a thing. Ain't ever interfered with his doings, not even at the time when I blew outside the barn. Geez, it means a life. My life and death, Agnes. My life and death. That's him for one thing or another, but not me. That's science, you know, Max, as that's the way we learn. Jane, wait. Now that you feel sure Max is experimenting with you, you run blindly out of the house, down the snow-covered path to the shed where you left the car. There's only one way now, Jane. You've got to get to a hospital, a doctor. You've got to get away from Max once and for all. And as you fumble for the car keys, the nightmare you've lived through for the past few days comes back in a rush. Richard, was it 10 seconds or 20? I saw two of them. Where do you think you're going? I thought if I could reach Dr. Olsen, I wanted to get someone, some help. There's no help outside. Only here. Where's the oxalate? On the top shelf of the cupboard. Yeah, I looked there. You'd better come and show me. All right, Max. I'll come. How many is it, Jane? About nine. Is the hypodermic in the starlighter? No. Well, put it in. Put it in. We're almost ready. Where are the notes? Notes? Now, let's see. Virus injected Monday, March 10th. Disease approaches critical state. Pretty close. Better make the final entry, Jean, or next to final while I finish here. All right. Ready now? Yes, Max. Preparing to administer anti-encephalitic, both drug E37, the subject. Work commenced on drug at 1 a.m., March 10th. Completed at 9 p.m., March 12th. Your hand trembles as you write. As you watch Max's eyes walk slowly to the sterilizer, lift the lid and remove the hypodermic. Then, after the 13th day of March, you fight it out of your mind. Struggle against the fear that grips you as Max turns hypodermic in hand. Everything begins to waver before your eyes. You drop the journal. It'll be over in a minute, Jean. You see, I simply put the needle in the solution. Release the plunger. The whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. In spring, most folks think of house cleaning. But because one can't see the inside of his automobile engine, few drivers realize that they get dirty too and may need cleaning. In fact, that's one of the reasons signal brought out signal premium compounded motor oil. It's an improved type lubricant that combines 100% pure paraffin base with scientific compounds. While you drive, one of the compounds in signal premium actually cleanses the inside of your motor of harmful carbon, gum, and varnish. Meantime, another compound in signal premium is on guard against destructive corrosion. And still other compounds are busy doing jobs which regular oil alone cannot do. That's why we call signal premium motor oil that does so much more than just lubricate. And it's why drivers who want to keep their motors young are switching to signal service stations, switching to signal premium compounded motor oil. It wasn't too much, was it, Jean? The sight of Max standing there before you, the hypodermic in his hand ready to administer the anti-encephalitic drug to his subject. And as you collapse, as darkness closed in around you, you realize that what you'd suspected all along was true, that you were the subject in his experiment, that Max was gambling with your life. Gradually as you regain consciousness, you become aware of the room you're in, a pretty bright room with organ-de-curtain. The sun is pouring in now, and suddenly you realize it's afternoon sun. I think she's coming around. Do you say something, Max? Never mind that, Agnes. Well, it's about time, young lady. Max! You slept the clock around, darling. It's after three. Max, it's all over? Yes, it's all over. You're all right. Oh, there's the doorbell, Agnes. What's that? Doorbell! Doorbell! Oh, doorbell! I expect it's the judge, y'all. Set him down in the parlor. Good. I, uh, told the judge to drop by in his way home from town, dear. Thought we might make an appointment. That is, if you don't mind changing your name on an unlucky day like the 13th? Change my name? My initials on... Unless you'd rather... No, it's... Max, you haven't told me what happened. What did you do? Well, if you hadn't fainted when you did, you'd have seen. Within an hour after I took that injection, I was feeling better. You! And eight hours later, there wasn't a trace of sleeping sickness in my blood. Max, darling. That's science, darling. You risk a little to gain a lot. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Eat Sunday night at the 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 Betty Lou Gerson and Willard Waterman. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen, directed by Gordon T. Hughes, with story by Ruth Bourne, 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 the same time next Sunday another strange tale by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.