 Have you heard the whistler? Official of an airplane plan. He found strange notes in the night. You better get away, Ambrose. Take a good long rest. The sooner, the better. That was Henry Pierce, Ambrose's partner. He was growing fearful of Ambrose. Get this prescription filled, Ambrose. It'll make you sleep. And you better get away. And that was Ambrose's friend, Dr. Fenwick. And this is Ambrose's wife, Doris. What's happened, Ambrose? Look at me. What have you done? Another Saturday night and again CBS presents the Whistler. And I, the whistler, know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who stepped into the shadows. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. So I tell you tonight the strange story of notes in the night. A storm rages wildly over the countryside. Beyond that long, rolled tree stands a lonely house half hidden in the darkness of the night. Not a single light appears from any of its many windows. But up there in that room with a large window, a man stirs fretfully in his sleep. The man is Ambrose Brent, an official of an airplane plant. But it's not the storm that stirs his uneasy slumber. It's something else. Something far more sinister. Something that has happened many times in the past few weeks. Now he stirs again, moans loudly, and suddenly sits bold upright in his huge bed. Who's there? Who's there, I say? Turn on the lamp, Ambrose. You'll see. I can't imagine what's happening to me. Just nerves, I guess. It's just a good lord. Another note. Another one. I must kill the Henry. I must kill the Henry. That's the third note this week in my own handwriting. I've got to do something. I've got to tell someone. Henry's my best friend. Oh, it's nerves. I know. Doc will know what's wrong. A Fairchild 1834W. Yes. Is Dr. Fenwick in? No, Dr. Fenwick. It's Walnut 2380. Walnut 2380? That's Henry Pierce's number. I can't go there. There's anything to this. I must stay away from Henry. I've got to see Doc Fenwick. Wait till morning. Doc, I've got to talk with you. Of course, Ambrose. Why not? What's up? Something's wrong with me. Terribly wrong. Really? Read this note. Note? I must kill Henry. Henry? I must kill Henry? I don't get it. What is this to do with your trouble? I wrote it. You did? Well, really. And why did you write it? I don't know. I don't remember writing it, but I know it's in my own writing. And that's it. Who's Henry? Henry Pierce. Who else? Have you been drinking, Ambrose? Not a drop, I swear. Well, look, old boy, you'd best sit down. That's better. Now, when did you write this? I don't know. I found six notes just like that. Six? Where? On the nightstand beside my bed. Are you sure it's your writing? Doesn't it look like it? Yeah, it certainly does. Tell me, how many hours have you been putting into the plant lately? Oh, too many. I'd better give you a thorough going over, Ambrose. But why should I write such notes? I don't know. Mind plays square tricks on us sometimes, under a new strain. You'd better slow down. That's my best prescription. Take it easy. Get out of town as soon as possible. Yes. Yes, I guess you're right. I'll give you something for your nerves. Thanks. Doctor, you don't think I'm losing my mind, do you? No, Ambrose. You're just terribly upset. Here's your prescription. You'd better get it filled tonight. Thanks. I'll leave Saturday. You don't think there's anything wrong with me? Mentally, I mean. If you're in town after Saturday night, I'll drag you out with my own two hands. Good night, Doctor. Good night, Ambrose. Sleep tight. And don't think about anything. Why don't you take a little vacation? What do you mean, Henry? Have you been talking to Doc Fenwick? Fenwick? Of course you have. He told you all about it. About what? I feel better than I've felt in years. I'm in excellent condition. Do you hear? Certainly I hear. What's wrong with you, Ambrose? Nothing. If you act like this, I'll be forced to agree with Doc Fenwick. What has he said? He just said you were overworked. Well, he doesn't know everything. Ambrose, you'll please me very much and I'll take a little vacation. Doc Fenwick tell you what was bothering me. Yes, he did, Ambrose. And I think you'd better get away as soon as possible. Oh, I'm sorry, Ambrose. But don't worry. Everything will be all right. Then you... You're not worried? You're not upset about it? Certainly not. Why should I be? Please believe me, Henry. I wouldn't do such a thing. I've never even thought of such a thing. I'd kill myself first. You... You do believe me, don't you? Well, of course I do, of course. I wouldn't kill you. For no reason. Shall I drive you home, Ambrose? No. No, I'll get home. I'd better leave tomorrow, hadn't I? I'll go up to my place in the mountains. There's no one there. My wife has gone to Palm Beach. Yes, Ambrose. You'd better leave tomorrow. Yes. Doris will be back from Palm Beach in three weeks. That'll be long enough. I'm sure you'll find things different when you return. Quite different. Good night, ain't I? Goodbye, Ambrose. Sleep tight and don't think about anything. Ambrose goes home and to bed. The clock ticks off the eerie hours, chimes too. And suddenly Ambrose stirs fretfully in his slumber. He wakes and again sits up staring into the inky blackness of his silent room. Turn on the light, Ambrose. Turn on the light. Who is it? Who's there? Jameson. Jameson! I've got to get hold of myself. This is ridiculous. Jameson! I'm losing my mind, I must be. Did you call me, sir? Yes. Yes, I called you. I thought I heard a scream. A scream? No, I... What time is it? It's long after midnight, sir. It's two o'clock. Two o'clock? Oh, pack my bag. Order my plane to be ready in 30 minutes. Where are you going, sir? It doesn't matter. Yes, sir. I've got to get away. I've got to. Jameson! Jameson! The car is at the door, sir. Then come on with the bag. Where are you going, sir? I don't know where I'm going, Jameson. Understand? Yes, sir. I understand. Good night, Jameson. Goodbye, sir. What on earth are you doing here at 2.30 in the morning? What's wrong? I say, what's wrong with you? Put up that gun. No, no, don't, Ambrose. Don't! Don't, you mad! Don't come near me! Don't! Ambrose. It's Dr. Fenwick's residence. I'll make it person to person. This is cross-line 142. Oh, no, never mind. I'll call them all. What on earth are you doing here? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Palm Beach. What are you doing up here in the mountains? I changed my mind. I decided to come up here. Why didn't you let me know? I didn't think about it. I was going to phone you in the morning. How did you find time to get away from the plant? I thought you were too busy to eat. Well, I... I decided I needed to rest. So I... It's an early hour to arrive. 5 a.m. Is it? Well, you... You see, it occurred to me on the spur of the moment. I flew up. What are you staring at? I'm not staring, Ambrose. What's wrong? What's happened? Nothing. I came up here because... What are you talking about, Ambrose? Are you ill? Yes. Yes, that's it. I'm ill, very ill. Yes. Get the doctor. What doctor? There's no doctor in here. Get Dr. Fenwick. He knows. Dr. Fenwick? He's the only one who knows. Is that Henry? Are you out of your mind? No, I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. You're here. It's a lie. A lie. I'm not crazy. I won't be crazy. Oh. Oh, Doris. What's happened? Ambrose. Ambrose. Ambrose. Look at me. What have you done? What have you done? Let me alone. I'm going to bed. I want to get something. Nothing. Nothing. What's that? Wake up, Doris. Huh? Hmm? That noise. I didn't hear him. I did. There it is again. There's someone coming there. They're out the door. There's no one. You see? I'm not here. I haven't been here. You don't know where I am. Yes, yes. I am here. Doc. Doc, it's you. Oh. Hello, Doris. Hello, doctor. Did you get my call? You did, didn't you? Ah, Ambrose. Take it easy. Everything's going to be all right. You'll get excited. All right. What do you mean? You've got a 50 to one chance to pull out of it. Pull out? Certainly. I know you're meant to be upset. It has been for weeks. I'll swear to that. I have records. I'll appear on your side. You'll get out of it. Out of what? You're not a killer. Killer? What did you say? I said you weren't a killer. I understand your case perfectly. Yeah. I'm sorry to say Henry is dead. He died about 2.30 in the morning. As closely as can be determined. From all indications, the police think he committed suicide. But he didn't. He didn't. You know he didn't. He may have. Then why did you come here? I thought this is where you'd come, and I was right. What does this mean, doctor? It means that if Henry's dead, I killed him. I must have. Must have? Are you positive? Yes. Who else could it be? I've written those to myself for weeks. Doc knows. He knows all about it. Do you? Yes. But I didn't think he'd come to this. But why did you do such a thing? He was your best friend. I know it. If he's dead, I must have done it. But why did you do it? I don't know. No, no. Please. Please. Don't get upset. He wasn't responsible. I am responsible. And I'm going back. No, Ambrose. Stay here till I send for it. Have a talk with him. No. I'm going back this morning. I can't believe such a thing. Doris, why do you look at me like that? Please. I don't know why I did it. Oh, Doris, don't you believe me? I... I don't know. I don't know. Tell her, doc. Tell her. Tell her what? Tell her the truth. Tell her I didn't do it for a reason. Explain to her how it was. You know how it happens. Go on. Tell her. Oh, boy, this is not helping you. What'll I do with you? Why? It's early yet. It's nine o'clock. You better try to get some sleep in this afternoon. I'll take you back to the city and make arrangements for you to go someplace where you can have a nice rest. Why? A rest home? I know a nice, quiet place. You don't mean a rest home. I know what you're thinking. You mean an asylum. You think I'm insane? Both of you. No, no. Ambrose. Well, why don't you say it? Ambrose, if you don't control yourself, something will happen to you. I won't go on an asylum. Do you hear? You hear me? Stop it. I won't stop it. You don't care about me. You're both cold and heartless. You want me to be locked up? Both of you! Ambrose, please! Please, calm down. Get away from him, Doris. He's a dangerous lunatic. A killer. You don't calm down. I'll abuse force. You try it. You just try it. I'm going out that door, and don't you try to stop me. You run away like this. You stamp yourself as a hopeless lunatic. They'll find you. They won't find me, and I won't be locked up. Ambrose, please! No! I'll kill myself first! Get up, old Ambrose! You've really made a mess of things. You're a fugitive now. They'll throw out a dragnet. You'll have to run and hide and sneak. Afraid of every shadow. You'll have to run, Ambrose. Hide and sneak and run for the rest of your days. Ambrose Brent. Fugitive. Hurry, Ambrose. Hurry. More gas. Step on it. What's that? A sign, Ambrose, and a red flag swinging in the road. Two men in black rubber coats. Too late to turn around now. I'm pretty fast for a storm like this, ain't you? Who are you? What do you want? State police. What are you stopping me for? We're stopping everybody. Why? We're looking for someone. Looking for someone? Who? A fugitive. A murderer? We didn't say what he'd done. Let's have a look at your driver's license. Driver's license? Well, I... I must have left it in your other suit, huh? Let's have a look at you. Hey, you come back here! What's eating him? He must be nuts. Why could have plugged him? But I just shot in the air. Just as well. He wasn't my karate. Why could make two of him? Know where you are now? Recognize this room? That's right. It's the room of death where Henry was murdered the night before. His body has been removed but the pad on his desk is still there, smeared with a large brown stain. There are five people in the room. The Fenwick and Doris Brent, Jameson the Brent's butler, Inspector Fields and Carnes of the District Attorney's Office. The Inspector is speaking. Carnes had an appointment with Henry Pierce. It was he who discovered the body this morning. Pierce had been dead about seven hours. Right, Mr. Carnes? That's right, Inspector Fields. We attempted to reach Mr. Brent and were told by Jameson the butler that he left town at two in the morning. He told us about the place in the mountains and there we reached you, Mrs. Brent. You've no idea where your husband is, Mrs. Brent? Not the slightest. But I said you had gone to Palm Beach. Yes, I started from Palm Beach but I changed my mind and went to the mountains. And your husband came there last night? Yes, it was about five in the morning. But nine o'clock. I flew up to the cabin, got there a few minutes before nine. Why did you go there, Doctor? Well, I advised Emerald to take a rest. He's been working too hard and was heading for a nervous breakdown. But I learned of Henry's death. Tell him about it. Doctor, you visited Henry Pierce here last evening. I did. He phoned me to come over. I got here about eleven. He'd made a new will and wanted me to witness it and asked if I would serve as executor. I read it and signed it. I see. In whose favor was the will drawn? Well, the old will left everything to Ambrose. Henry had no living relative. But because of Ambrose's mental condition he decided to leave everything to Doris. Mrs. Brent. That's correct. I found the will on the desk. Was Ambrose Brent your patient? Yes, of course. What was his trouble? Too much work. He had a great responsibility. Did you think he was losing his mind? No. Did he think so? Well, he was terribly upset. He'd been having hallucinations. Doctor, when was the last time you saw him prior to finding him in the mountains? The evening before Henry died. I wrote him a prescription. And where did you go after you left Henry Pierce last night? I told my servants that I was going out of town for a holiday but it was storming so when I left Henry that I decided to stay at my club. Mrs. Brent, did your husband Mr. Pierce ever quarrel? Not to my knowledge. They were the best of friends. I see. Have you told us all you know, Dr. Fenty? No. Then I think you should. What was it that bothered Ambrose Brent? Well, he said he had been writing himself notes. They were all alike in his own handwriting and all said the same thing. I must kill Henry. I didn't know this. Certainly not. That was the patient's private business. I thought that if I could get him away for a rest he'd pull out of it. There you are, Carnes. Must have been on his mind. Yes, but what's the motive? An unbalanced mind that doesn't always need a motive. Then you think Ambrose did it? He loved Henry like a brother. If he did it, he was completely out of his mind. Believe me. Ambrose! Well, thank heaven you finally came to your senses. Come in, Mr. Brent. I suppose you want to see me. I'm Inspector Fields, Police Department. This is Mr. Carnes of the District Attorney's office. Yes, I know Mr. Carnes. I thought you'd gone on a little vacation, Mr. Brent. I had gone, but not on a vacation. Mr. Pierce told me you'd gone for a couple of weeks. I was going on a vacation, but something changed my mind. Oh? What was that? You know. You know I've come back. Henry's dead and I killed him. When did you kill him? I don't know. Must have been last night. Why did you do it? I wish I knew. I recall neither the crime nor the motive, but I'm sure I did it. Why are you so sure you did it? Because of these notes, six of them. I've been writing notes to myself for weeks. Read them. Are they... Are they in your own handwriting? Certainly. But I don't remember writing a one. I must have some form of amnesia. When I heard Henry was dead, I... I tried to run away. I couldn't stand the thought of an asylum, but the faster I ran, the more I hated myself, so I came back to get it over with. It's a great relief. I don't know, Mr. Brent. Close yourself. Mr. Brent, did you know that Henry Pierce made a new will last night, leaving his estate to your wife? What? Why should he do that? Perhaps he was worried about you. Of course. Why shouldn't he be? He knew I was acting strangely. Take a look at this will. Is that Henry's signature? Certainly. You're sure it isn't your right? It is not. I couldn't copy his signature if I tried. It's just a bunch of scrawls. Mm-hmm. Oh, Mr. Brent, take this pad and write on it. I must kill Henry. Please, isn't that being a bit brutal? Go ahead, write it. Now write the date. They weren't dated. Go write it anyway. Write the date and numerals. Don't name them up. There it is. Thank you. Now you write the same, Mr. Brent. There. Thanks. Now you, Dr. Bentley. Mm-hmm. Go ahead. I know what you've got. We're certainly in your own hand writing, Mr. Brent. I told you that. Why waste so much time? I came back to get it over with. I'm tired. There. You need some sleep, old man. You'll feel better after you have a man. I can't sleep. I haven't slept for days. You should have. You've been taking that medicine I gave you. I didn't get it. I didn't want to sleep. I just wanted to get away. Here's the prescription. It's still in my pocket. Prescription? May I see it, please? Thank you. Mm-hmm. What is this medicine, Dr? He's intended to induce sleep, but he's so stubborn he wouldn't take it. If he had, this wouldn't have happened. Inspector, take a look at this note written just now by Mr. Brent. I must kill Henry. And the date? 514-42. May the 14th, 1942. Now Mrs. Brent's note. I must kill Henry. 514-42. The same. And now, Dr. Fenwick's. I must kill Henry. 14-542. Now read the date on the will. 14-542. What does that mean? There aren't 14 months. Now look at the date on this prescription. 14-542. Well, I'll be done. What does it mean? It means that Dr. Fenwick was educated in Europe, where they indicate the day of the month first, then the month. The 14th day of the fifth month. What? Well, crazy. Are you accusing me of this? It means that the doctor, not Henry, wrote this will. And if he wrote the will, he must have killed Henry Pierce. And if he killed Henry, he must have had a motive. And I've guessed that motive. Out of your mind. What motive would I have? You also wrote those notes and left them for Ambrose to find. You're an expert at handwriting, Dr. Fenwick. You figured that Ambrose would be declared insane. And Henry, as well as Ambrose's property, would go to Doris with you as executor in complete control. Well, I don't believe it. Great situation. And this is what I hate to say at this moment, but I think it's true. Dr. Fenwick, tell him about you and Mrs. Brent. That's a lie. Tell him, Dr. That's what's back of the whole thing. You're stuck. You might as well tell him. All right. All right. I wrote the will. I wrote the notes. I am in love with Doris. I have been for years. She was in love with me. Doris. I'm sorry, Henry. But she had nothing to do with Henry's death. Not a thing. I came here that night, disguised as Ambrose. Henry didn't hear my voice. I only whispered. He thought it was you. That's all. Sorry, Doris. Stop it. Doctor is dead. Doctor is dead, yes. But that's not all, not quite. There's something troubling the inspector and you, Ambrose, and you, too, Doris. How was it that Mr. Carnes first got wise to the doctor? How did the doctor slip up? How did he show his hand? I know. And so does district attorney Carnes. Go ahead, Mr. Carnes. Tell us. Well, the doctor said he had gone to the cabin to tell Ambrose of Henry's death. He arrived at the cabin at 9 a.m. I didn't discover the body till 10 a.m. and gave strict orders that it was not to be announced until we'd inspected everything thoroughly. Therefore, the only way the doctor could have known about the murder was to have been present when that happened. So you see, the doctor didn't go to the cabin to inform Ambrose. He went there to meet Doris. And when he was surprised by Ambrose, he used the death of Henry as an excuse for his coming. DS has presented The Whistler. Original music for this production was composed and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Tonight's Whistler story was written and directed by J. Donald Wilson and originated from Columbia Square in Hollywood. Next week, same time, I, The Whistler, will return to tell you the incredible story of the draft of death. Good night. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.