 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, invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by The Whistler. 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 shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now for the Signal Oil company, The Whistler's strange story. Caesar's wife. They were starting the day, the three of them. Just as they had begun every Monday morning for as long as any of them could remember. But that was because none of them had any premonition of what was going to happen in the next 24 hours. Frank Conway, the Caesar of the Rackets, was standing in front of the mirror in his luxurious hotel suite. Joe, his personal barber, who had just finished trimming his hair, did nothing but stand there behind him holding a towel. He watched as Frank Conway shaved himself with an electric razor. Joe was wondering what to do with his hands, feeling as awkward and helpless on this occasion as he did on many other Monday morning routines. The weekly command performance at eight o'clock sharp in Conway's suite. Kirby Morton, the other man in the room, was more relaxed. After many years with Conway, he'd learned to accept anything. Joe. Yes, Mr. Morton. I wouldn't stand behind the boss like that, you make him nervous. What makes you think I'm nervous, Kirby? I don't know. I just got the idea from the way you talked to Judge Faulkner yesterday. Forget Faulkner. Well, after all... Quit staring in the mirror, Joe. Go on over there and sit down. I'm through shaving. See you, Joe. As you, Mr. Conway. Choose to cut me when you're ready. You know, you're hard to please, Frank. Oh? Yeah. A couple of weeks ago, you used your power to get a judge of your own elected to the Superior Court. Masterpieces for Nathan. Today is honor. Judge Faulkner calls up to say thank you, and suddenly you're allergic to the telephone. I'll give his honor to be Judge Faulkner. Plenty of time to thank me when he's on the bench. Yeah, I'm sure you will. And you don't have to jump down my throat just because you're off your feet today. Okay, Kirby. I'm sorry. Here, Joe, take this electric razor. I sure, Mr. Conway. Not Joe put on a little of powder, combed the hair. And not today. But, Mr. Conway, I got a beautiful new toilet of water. Joe? Yes, Mr. Conway. Maybe tomorrow morning. Yeah, tomorrow you feel better. You know, Kirby, sometimes I don't think you're very smart. Now, look, Frank. Shooting your mouth off about me electing judges in front of Joe? No, he's been with you for years. He can talk, can't he? He won't talk, he worships you. Yeah, sure, sure. Everybody worships me. Bob is boot black, fat-headed ward healers like Faulkner. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all the loving I get because people are afraid of me or I've got something they want. Stay me with raisins, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. What's that? Solomon. You ought to read him sometime. Best seller in his day. Yeah, well, I've got other things to do. Yeah, I guess you have. Well, are you going to tell me what's eating you or not? There's nothing wrong with me. You're making it hard for me, Frank. Put yourself in my shoes. Press agent for Mr. Big of the Rackets. Colorful character, the walking question mark. The guy who can swing elections and collect pay-off, but who can't stand the sight of blood or the feel of a razor against his face. Shut up, Kirby. And I can't say a word to the paper. I can't even ask questions. Right-hand man to a guy I don't even know. I said shut up. OK, so I shut up. You have a right to be irritated with Kirby, haven't you, Frank? Yeah. In the years he served you, he certainly should have learned that your strange fear of sharp objects, of things that cut and scratch is something no one asks about ever. The big secret, the thing that makes you a walking question mark, belongs to you and only one other man in the world. A secret terror other people will learn about within 24 hours, but you have no way of knowing that, Frank. A few minutes later, as you and Kirby are about to settle down to work, he gets on another subject. Just as irritating. Yeah, Frank, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you had woman trouble. You got all the symptoms. Maybe you're right, Kirby. You're a little old with that, aren't you, Frank? Thanks, sir. Gloria's a great girl. He wouldn't want a better wife. He asked me. I didn't ask you. Oh, look, Frank. All right, wait a minute, wait a minute. Frank, darling. Gloria, what do you mean by walking in like that? Ooh, listen to him, Kirby. You'd never know we had the top floor of this hotel practically sealed off for its private use. Yeah, but just the same, honey. I've asked. Darling, stop growling. I just dropped by to tell you I had a date for lunch. Oh, that's nice. Anybody I know? Yes, yes. Darling, I think so. Mitzi Raymond. You remember her. Used to be in the chorus with me at the Hamosa Club. You don't expect Frank to remember anything that far back, do you, Gloria? Ooh, you make me feel like something out of the Florida sex test. Resent that for me, will you, Frank? Now, kiss me, baby. I've got to go. I got to hurry. Sure. Mm. Oh, your face is so smooth, darling. See you later, honey. You're a wonderful girl. Yeah, yeah. Now, what were you saying about it? Forget it. I don't want to talk about it now. Come on, let's get this work cleared up, huh? I've got a feeling I'm going to have an important date for lunch. And let those guys at the Black Cat know their take with 20% on the last month, huh? They know it already. That's all right. Tell them again. Tell them I'm very unhappy about it, and I figure it's better to be up by the first. I'll get it. Expecting someone? Yeah, yeah. We'll see now about that lunch appointment. Oh, hello, Sally. Yeah, Mr. Conway, I did what you said. It's OK, Sally. You can talk in front of Kirby. Oh, yeah. Well, I followed Mrs. Conway, like you said. She went to a little French restaurant, and made something rather than 46th Street. Go on. Well, she met someone there. Who? He was a nice looking fella in a gray suit that took a table in the corner. I'll fill in the missing words. Thanks, Sally. That's all I want to know. Go on, get out. OK, Mr. Conway. Yeah. What does that mean? That's the mitzi Gloria is having lunch with. The one who used to dance in the lion at the hamoser. I can't believe Gloria would. Kirby, you're a whiz at quotations. Another one about Caesar's wife. I ran across it the other day. Says Caesar's wife should be above suspicion. What did Caesar do about it, Kirby? He left her. She got off easy, didn't she? Now, don't go jumping in conclusions. Yeah. Caesar didn't have much pride, Kirby. There's only one thing to do in a case like this. Now, wait, wait a minute, Frank. You've got to give her the benefit of that. I've got her everything, Kirby. Time she gave something to me. Her life? Not hers. But you don't know this, guy. You aren't sure. There's another saying, you know. Render unto Caesar's the things that are Caesar's. That's all. It's as simple as that. Are you passing up the easiest chance you've ever had to win a new car, a Buick Super? You are if you haven't entered Signal's big $10,000 contest. Anyone can enter, mind you, because no purchases are required. There are no box stops to send in. Simply stop at any Signal service station and ask for a free entry blank. Then for just writing 25 words or less, you may win one of the 200 big prizes. And what you write is so easy, so much fun, you probably want to send in several entries. You know those Signal cartoon billboards that show an angry bride waiting at the church door for the groom who's just arriving late because he ran out of gas? Well, all you need do is write what you think the bride is shouting at the groom. For instance, she might be shouting, in addition to love, honor, and obey, you'll have to promise to use Signal go farther gasoline after this. Think of it, for writing something as easy as that, you might win the Buick or a Packard Bell television set or a Frigidaire refrigerator, electric range, or home freezer. Winners will be selected on the basis of originality and humor, aptness, and suitability in advertising Signal products. So make a B line for your nearest Signal station and ask for a contest entry blank. They're free, no purchase required. Yes, Frank, ye shall render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar. And as you ride with Kirby Morton across town to the little French restaurant on 46th Street, the knowing suspicion inside you was given way to a dull, sure feeling that there's only one solution now, one way to take care of the man who was dared to fall in love with Caesar's wife. Gloria had been so clever about it, so positive that the meetings, the casual hellos and the hotel lobby, the whispered telephone conversations were unnoticed. But Kirby is still right, Frank. You've got to be sure. You've got to see for yourself what's going on. In the restaurant, the two of you stand where the hat check stands, looking back into the cozy little bar in the rear. May I help you, Monsieur? No, we're just looking around. I have a nice table near the window. I told you we're just looking around. But don't, Monsieur. Well, satisfied, Kirby? I don't know, Frank. There they are. Look at him. He's bringing her a drink from the bar. Yeah, your boy was right. He's a good looking, Joe. Yeah. Personality with shoulders and coat lapels to match. Look, Frank, he could be your brother. She's an only child. No. Too bad. Look at that. Look at that. She's laughing. He must have said something funny. Maybe I ought to rustle up a couple of new jokes. Take it easy, Frank. Come on, I've seen enough. You've got to make sure. Don't worry, Kirby. Before we're through, I'll be sure. I've seen you like this before, Frank. Going to all this trouble, tapping Gloria's telephone and everything. Relax, Kirby. I'm handling this personally. I want to hear just how interesting Mr. lapels can be. OK. I guess we just sit around and wait. Yeah. Oh, see, I almost forgot. Judge Faulkner's outside. We didn't see him. He can keep on waiting. Get my teller in here, will you? Like I said, OK. Hey, come in, Mr. Roberts. Mr. Conway's ready for you now. Yes, yes, of course. This will only take a minute, Mr. Conway. I just want you to slip the coat on. Let me get a quick look. All right. Help me into it, will you? Yes, sir. That's it. Now, careful of the lining. It's only dasted. What about these lapels? Lapels? Yeah. Oh, I've got them pinned back. But they're the latest thing, Mr. Conway. I made certain of them. Now, look, I saw some lapels this wide. See, out to here. Shop. That's the way I want them. But with this type of garment? Never mind. I know what I want. Of course, Mr. Conway. I always don't. Hey, watch out. What are you trying to do to get away? But, Mr. Conway, I do. Look at this pin sticking right out. Oh, the pin what? Take this thing off me. I don't want the suit you're here. Throw it in the ash can. He's going to a lot of times. Hey, I'm off. Get him out of here. I don't want to hear it anymore. He knew he better go, Roberts. But the material, I think. He said to pay you off. Now, come on. Well, all right, Mr. Kirby, though I hate to do business. It's all right to see you later, Roberts. Don't worry about it. Frank, I don't get it. You don't have to. But it was only a pin. The poor guy. Skip it, will you? No, I won't. A few days ago, there was a pair of scissors that upset you. And last week was an ordinary candle burner. I don't see that. I thought I made it clear, Kirby. You don't have to see anything. But we're friends. I don't know you well enough to be able to. But you don't. Nobody knows me that well. Now, let's forget it. I've got other things to attend to. Listening in on your own wife's phone calls. Shut up, will you? Hello? Hello? Gloria? Hello, Alan? This is it all right. Alan, I have the money for you. Oh, well, uh, look, I don't want you to think I was in a hurry for it. Oh, the money isn't important. You know that. I know. Say, uh, I was thinking I might go out of town for the weekend. Oh. It'll be all right with you. Is it awfully important? Well, it isn't a matter of life and death. You know how I feel, Alan, about your being here. It means so much to me just to know that you're around. I understand. I don't want you to get the idea that I think I can own you. Oh, no, no. But you know why I got you a room right here in the hotel. Yes, I know. Forget it. I'll stick around. Would you? Oh, that's perfect. By the way, that reminds me, I moved to a better room this morning. I'm in room 1438. Better jot it down. Room 1438. I'll remember. I'll be in till after six. Then I'm going to have dinner at Luigi's. Fine. I'll meet you there. If I can slip away from a party we're going to. And I'll have the money for you. Okay. Bye now. Goodbye. A dirty little double crosser. What is it, Frank? What did they talk about? She belongs to me. Kirby, do you understand me? Frank, you're upset. You better talk to her. Upset? No, no. I'm not Kirby. I'm just as calm as I'll have to be. What are you looking for? This. What's a gun? What's got into you? You haven't touched a gun in all the years I've been with you. Kirby, I keep telling you this is a personal affair. Very personal. You're talking foolish. That's hoodlum stuff. Listen, if this thing has to be done I can drop a word. You'll drop a word to nobody, Kirby. Frank, you can't do this. It's crazy. Kirby, you can't stop me. Caesar's wife, do you remember, should be about suspicion. I'd get Judge Faulkner in here. It's been an hour. He's probably gone. Get him. No, you can't talk to him. Now, not when you're in this frame of mind. Okay, Kirby, I'll get him myself. Judge and I are going to have a little talk. Come on in, your honor. Sorry to keep you waiting so long. That's all right, Frank. I was perfectly comfortable. Oh, good. You know Kirby Morton, don't you, Judge? Oh, yes, we've met. Sit down. Sit down, Judge. I'll fix your drinks. Oh, no, thanks. I just dropped by to thank you for the way everything worked out. Oh, no, it's my pleasure, your honor. Yes, and beautifully handled, Frank. Beautifully handled. Well, we try to keep things running smooth. I figure you'll be an asset, Judge, to the people and to me. Oh, I should say so. Anything I can ever do, Frank? Oh, I'm glad we understand one another. It cuts out a good deal of unnecessary conversation, right? Maybe, yes. Judge Faulkner, I think we should have a little celebration. You know, nothing fancy. Maybe a quiet dinner. Oh, I'm delighted. Yeah, say it's your house tonight. I'm sure Mrs. Faulkner would be honored. Good, good. About six o'clock? Six? Why, I think that can be arranged. It is arranged. And, Judge, I'm going to be late. I don't quite understand. Well, that's one thing you'll never have to quite understand. As far as your concern and your wife, Judge, I arrived at six sharp. But, Frank, you're my friend. I do anything for you. Only if I get any mix-ups at this station. There'll be no mix-up for you from now on, Judge. Just do as you're told, huh? Yeah, I think I understand. A dot of six. Stayed all evening. Oh, you're a smart guy, Judge. Both on and off the bench. And now, Judge Faulkner, you better run along. Work things out with Mrs. Faulkner. You know the ladies. They like to plan their social activity. Yes, of course. Well, I'll be running along. Good day, Mr. Morton. Right at six. Judge for an alibi. Is that the way it's gonna be, Frank? Yeah, Kirby. That's exactly the way it's gonna be. Well, it's a good thing you found use for him so soon. What do you mean by that? Because it won't take long for the people to find out he's a phony. After he's thrown out of office, he won't be much used to you. Now, look, Kirby, if you're trying to stop me... Oh, no, no, Frank. I know better than that. You've made your decision. Nothing I can say will stop you now. Yes, Frank, you've made your decision, haven't you? And you lose little time in completing the arrangements. Gloria isn't going to have any trouble slipping out. No. Because you want it that way. You want her to keep her appointment at Luigi's. To be waiting for the man who will never appear. It's almost six o'clock before you're alone with Gloria. And it isn't easy to think of the brutal thing you're going to do. Gloria is so beautiful, isn't she, Frank? As she sits at a mirror, combing her hair, she seems so devoted, so innocent. You're getting dressed kind of early tonight. Aren't you, Gloria? Mm-hmm. You don't mind if I spend a little extra time making myself beautiful for you, do you, darling? No. Now, I've always wanted you to make yourself beautiful. For me. Frank, what's the matter? You sound, well, strange. Is something bothering you, darling? Something on your mind? Nothing that can't be cleared up, Gloria. I think that after tonight, everything will be all right again. Frank, what do you mean? You're not taking any chances. If anything ever happened to you, darling, I'd... You'd what, honey? Well, you know how much I love you. I think I do. I think I know even better than you, Gloria. Whatever it is, dear, you will be careful. Promise? Yeah. I promise. I'll be extra careful, sweetheart. Yes, Frank. After tonight, everything will be all right again, and you'll be careful. Because it means so much to both of you, so much to the future. That's what's in your mind. You wait quietly until a little before six and then let yourself out of the suite. The corridor outside is deserted, and you walk swiftly to the automatic elevator. Press the button for the 14th floor. Riding down, you pat gently at the gun nestled in its holster under your coat. It's going to be quick and business-like, isn't it, Frank? No time for a dangerous struggle. Smooth. Always run things. At room 1438, you slip a pasquie into the lock and let yourself in, quietly. He's singing in the other room. Silently, you move in toward him. You can see him standing in front of the mirror fixing his tie. He's pleased with himself, isn't he, Frank? Even picking up his drink, holding it up as if toasting himself in the mirror, toasting his good fortune. I'd enjoy that drink if I were you, Ellen. What? Go on. As good a way as any to die. Enjoying a last drink. Mr. Conway. That's right, Mr. Conway, not Mrs. What's the matter? What are you talking about? Sorry, Ellen, I'm all through talking. No, no, no, wait. You don't know what you're doing. I... He stumbles. And as he falls toward you, the glass in his hand smashes against the barrel of your gun. You step back quickly and stare at the back of your hand. A red gash, Frank. A chance cut by Ellen's glass shattering against your gun. You stare at it horrified. Because there it is, Frank. The answer to your unusual personality. Your big secret. Hemophilia. The weakness you've guarded so faithfully from everyone but your personal physician. Yes, Frank. The smallest cutter scratch can kill you. Let you bleed to death. It's the thing that's kept you away from violence, isn't it, Frank? It's forced you to have things done smoothly. Business-like. Because a tiny accident like this can cost your life. No hope. Oh, I'll bleed to death. I gotta get help. Gotta get help. When you hear about someone else who's winning a big prize in a contest by writing a few simple words, you've probably said, oh, I could have written something that good. Of course you could. But the important thing is to enter the contest. I'm not putting it off, but enter Signals Big $10,000 Contest now. Because 200 happy people are going to win some wonderful prizes just for writing 25 words or fewer. What's the angry bride on the Signal Gasoline billboard might be shouting at the groom? That's all there is to the Signal Contest. No purchase is required. No box tops to send in. And in addition to the Buick, there are 199 other valuable awards, such as a three-piece Apex automatic laundry, O'Keefe and Merritt gas ranges, solid gold case Hellbrose wristwatches, vacuum cleaners, and pop-up toasters by Westinghouse. And best of all, your chances of winning are good, because this is not a national contest. Only entries mailed on official entry blanks from the six Signal States, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada and Arizona, are eligible to win. If you had entered this contest, get in line for those big prizes by getting into the Signal Contest now. Entry blanks, remember, are free. No purchase is required at any Signal service station. So the murder of the young man in the gray suit, Alan Roberts, went off exactly as you planned it, Frank. And he's lying dead now on the floor of room 1438 where you left him. More than that, well, Judge Faulkner himself will be ready to tell the police you were at his home having dinner at the time of the killing. But one little fact, the thing you couldn't have figured on, a thing that would have made no difference to almost anyone but you, has turned it all into a nightmare. Yes, Frank, the man you killed happened to be holding a half-empty drinking glass in his hand when you fired. And as he fell toward you, a cut that can be as disastrous as final as a bullet in the head. An hour later, back in your private suite, you can't understand why Monheim, your private physician, is so calm. Will you hurry up, Doc? Take it easy, Frank. What do you mean, take it easy? You gotta do something. Listen, Frank, you must try to relax. All we have to do is wait a little while. Wait a little while? Are you crazy? Listen, I know what can happen to me. I know about hemophilia. I've been reading about it all my life. But it's not gonna happen. You're right. And you don't know how lucky you are. You need more than an ordinary transfusion. You're a very rare type. And if we had to look for your type of blood in a hurry, we knew we'd never have a chance. We? Gloria and I. Gloria? She doesn't know about... She does know, Frank. I thought it was better to tell her. It was she who... Oh, that's what I'm waiting for. Yes? This is Monheim. What? What's that? Good Lord. What are you saying? Yes. Yes, I know. What's that? Frank, I... I don't know how to tell you this. Tell me what? The man Gloria had moved into the hotel. The one she hired just to be near you all the time. The one in a million with a type of blood that matches yours. Hired? Gloria hired a man? Yes. Alan Roberts. He's dead, Frank. Murdered. They just found him down in his room. Down in 1438. Let that whistle be your signal each Sunday for the Signal Oil program, The Whistler. And this week, be sure to enter Signal's big $10,000 contest. 200 valuable prizes include a new Buick, Apex Automatic Laundry, Frigidaire Refrigerator Electric Range or Home Freezer, Packard Bell Television Set, O'Keefe and Merritt Gas Range, and many others. Just ask at your nearest Signal service station for an official entry blank. It's free. No purchase required. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Gerald Moore, Willard Waterman, and Vivi Janis. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Alan, with story by David Victor and Herbert Little. Music by Wilbur Hatch and was transmitted to our troops overseas for 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. Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company, with the CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.