 And now, stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who is guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In the Signal Oil program, The Whistler. The famous Go Farther Gasoline invites you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by 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. Smart boy. Some sat waiting in the paneled outer office of Marty Randall Enterprises. The room was tastefully done, expensively furnished. At the lone desk in the far end of the room sat a tasteful expensive secretary. A harmonious addition to the rest of the furnishings. She looked up, smiled at Carl, and nodded toward the door marked Marty Randall Private. He returned to smile, got up and walked into the private office. Closing the door behind him. The small squat man at the desk, Marty Randall, looked up as Carl entered. Stared at him with bland gray eyes for a minute before he said, Got the money. Right here, money. I just toss it on the table. Ten grand. 2,500 from Pete Baywood, 7,500 from Keeler. Want to cut it? No, I don't have to. You say it's ten grand, it's ten grand. Thanks. I like guys I can trust, Carl. Remember that. Have any trouble? They wouldn't mind a little. So what'd you do? Let them mind. Good. He likes to complain, doesn't mean anything. That's why I figured. Got anything else for me today? I surprised you, didn't I? What do you mean, Marty? Ten grand's the biggest slice you ever collected for me, didn't it? Yes, it is. I didn't count it when you handed it over. That surprised you, didn't it? Maybe you're being polite. I don't have to be, you know that. I know better than to try to hold out a couple of bucks on you, Marty. That's what I mean. You've been with me six months now, Carl. I think I got you paked. You're smart. You're a smart boy. But I noticed something else about you. You don't want to work collections all your life. Right? You knew that when you hired me. Sure, sure I did. I need some smart boys. That's why I took you on. But you want to get ahead, don't you? What do you think? I want to see you get ahead. So I'm telling you, keep up the good work, like they say. And in time, you'll get yours. How much time, Marty? Who can say? You got lots of it, Carl. What's your hurry? I'm in no hurry, Marty. Oh, but you are. I can see it. That's what I'm talking to you for. But I know you're smart. And a smart boy takes it easy. He's willing to learn. He's willing to wait and take his time. Let his boss do his thinking for him. And it... Hi, Marty. Don't you ever knock? No, but like I told that dame out there, I knew you'd want to see me right away. You did, eh? Okay, Joe, you're halfway in. Come on. Hello, Carl. You want me to leave, Marty? Ah, stick around, Carl. Joe never takes much time. Got the dough, Joe? Sure. Here. 500 bucks. Any trouble collecting? You know me, Marty. Joe Rhodes never has no trouble, like clockwork. This all of it? Sure, 500. Where's the rest, Joe? The rest. What do you mean, Marty? It's all there. How much you keeping out? So help me, Marty. It's there. To the penny. You like to keep a little extra, don't you, Joe? Marty, believe me. 10 spot here, 20 there. That's up, doesn't it, Joe? Just count it, Marty. I ain't lying. How much? How much you're holding out? Not a cent. How much, punk? No, Marty. No rough stuff. I ain't... How much? Please, Marty. How much? You shouldn't have hit me, Marty. I don't like it. You shouldn't have... Okay, okay. I kept out 50. I needed the dough. I was going to make it up to you, but you shouldn't hit me, Marty. Get out. I was going to give it back to you next time you paid me. Get out. Okay. But I want to tell you, Marty... Don't run like I said. Get out and stay out. Leave 50 bucks. He's a punk. Well, clown, you want to get ahead. You think you can be smart with guys like that? Don't you know he was holding out on you? How'd I know you weren't? Yeah. Same thing. Now, where were we? You were saying I should take my time, Marty. Oh, yeah, that's right. But how long? How long till I can make a move up? When do I do more and talk a penny anti-bookie out of a couple of bucks? And when do you start getting more dough from me? That's it. That depends on two people, clown. You and me, but mostly me. So take your time and you'll go far with me, right? Okay. Trouble with you, Carl, you worry too much. You don't know how to relax. Now, look at me. I know how to relax. I'm going to spend the day at the races. Say, why don't you come along? It'll do you good. Besides, I get some hot tips. The races? Well, sure, Marty. Why not? You're the boss. There aren't going to be any shortcuts to easy money in Marty Randall's syndicate. You're going to be an ordinary collection man for how long, Carl? Marty says that's up to him, that you should be patient, bide your time. But you have other ideas, haven't you, Carl? You want money, lots of it. And if you can't make it with Marty, you'll have to find some other way. And then that afternoon at the track... I told you I had this race for you. Hey, by two lengths, Marty, and a twenty to one. This is my day, kid. Let's see, I had two grand at the window. I bet a grand with Willie Burke on the side. Twenty to one, that's sixty thousand bucks. Hey, you brought me luck, Carl. I'm going to the clubhouse and celebrate. Hey, what about your money? Oh, you can collect it for me. Here's a ticket. You know where Burke is sitting. Okay, Marty. I'll be at my table in the clubhouse. Fine. I'll have a drink waiting for you. You watch Marty push back through the crowd toward the clubhouse entrance. Sixty thousand dollars, Carl. And Marty's asked you to collect it for him. Your mind is racing as you make your way to Willie Burke's box and collect his twenty thousand. Then you push and shove through to the ticket window. Another forty thousand. Marty's money, but you're way out, Carl. No more waiting. No more biding your time until Marty says you can move up. This is it, Carl. You make your decision quickly. Hurry to the track entrance. And then to the taxi stand at one side. International Airport. And hurry. Do you know how quickly your car can accelerate in an emergency? Do you know how steep a hill it can take in high without pinging? The chances are you don't know if you haven't tried Signal Eiffel. For there is a gasoline, a premium quality gasoline, engineered to bring out the best in any car. Yes, regardless of whether your car was bought this year or ten years ago. If you like to feel your motor spring to life on cool mornings the moment you touch the starter, Signal Eiffel is for you. If you're thrilled to pick up what makes other drivers sit up and take notice, Signal Eiffel is for you. And if you enjoy smooth, effortless power that lets you soar down highways and up hills without shifting or pinging, Signal Eiffel is for you. It's a fact many drivers have no idea what really smart performance their car could deliver. But there's an easy way you can find out. Just try a couple of tankfuls of Signal Eiffel. The premium quality gasoline that brings out the best in any car. It wasn't a car almost too easy. And now two years have passed. Yes, it's been two years since you walked out of a racetrack with $60,000 in winnings. You belonged to gambler Marty Randall, your boss. You flew to South America with the money, stayed in remote villages where no one had ever heard of Marty Randall. And when you thought it was safe, you returned to the United States, changed your name from Carl Maxson to Carl Baylor and bought a hotel in the small select Sierra resort town of Ridgley. It's been a profitable investment, hasn't it, Carl? And Ridgley is almost as secluded and remote from Marty Randall where your village hiding places were in South America. In a matter of six months' time, you've become a successful respected member of the community. And one of your best friends in Ridgley is Ed Hawthorne, the genial chief of police. Well, Ed, hi, sit down. What can I do for you? Well, you can tell me why the Samuel Aberrant would chief of police. Oh, burdens of public office weighing heavily upon you? Carl, when I was just a cop, I spent my spare time doing whatever I felt like doing. Since I've been chief of an intellectual for the ladies' aid, then it's selling these dog-gone-ravel tickets. The penalty you have to pay for high public acclaim. Yeah, none of it isn't. Well, since you're chairman of the raffle sales committee, you'll be glad to know that I've sold ten books. Ten? Hey, terrific, Ed. How'd you do it? Use your badge to intimidate people? I bought eight of them myself. Oh, I should have known. Oh, that's swell of your head. This was a fine idea of yours, Carl. A raffle to raise money for a kid's playground? Oh, I just thought of it before somebody else did. That's all. Don't soft-soap me, Carl Bailey. What are you doing here, anyway? What do you mean? I mean, how come you picked Ridgely? Oh, I like Ridgely, Ed. Yeah, but a young fellow like you with a head on your shoulders, don't misunderstand me, we're lucky to have you here. But you could be going places. Instead, you settle down here in Ridgely, where nothing much goes on except during the tourist season, no daily papers, bad radio reception. Like I said, Ed, I like it here. Nice and quiet without too many people shoving you around. Well, that's Ridgely all right. Oh, say, do you hear about the new addition to the population? Somebody new in town? Yeah, young widow. Just moving the old Carlisle place up on the hill. Her name's Claire Underwood. They say her husband owned half the lumber in the Northwest. Kind of a nice-looking lady, too. For good? Hmm? Is she staying here for good? Oh. Yeah, it seems like she says she wants to live in a nice, quiet little town. Just like you do, Carl. Say, maybe you, too, have a lot in common. You smile at Ed, a smile that disguises your real thoughts. Thoughts about Ed's dullness, his plotting, slow-witted manner. Under ordinary circumstances, you'd never have made friends with him, would you, Carl? Hiding from Marty Ramble changes all that. And Ed said something that interests you a great deal, hasn't he? Yes. The thought of a wealthy widow settling in Ridgely is very interesting. You decide to lose no time investigating Claire Underwood. That afternoon, you drive over to the old Carlisle place that she's taken, one of the town's largest mansions. Mrs. Underwood? Yes. I'm Carl Baylor. I was just passing by and thought I'd say hello, welcome to Ridgely. And can I be of any help to you getting settled? Oh, nice of you. Won't you come in? Thank you. I'm afraid the place is still in the mess. Maybe you could use some expert assistance. Indeed I could. You see, my help won't arrive till this evening, and I'm rather at a loss. Still, I hate to impose. Oh, nonsense. I have a motive, you see. I hope to sell you some raffle tickets. Well, I hate to spoil your crafty plan, Mr. Baylor, but your chief of police tried the very same thing yesterday. Ed Hawthorne, I might have known. I bought two books from him. But don't be discouraged, there's still plenty of work to be done. Uh-oh. There are some heavy packages in the hall that should be carried to the attic. The drapes haven't been hung, the dishes aren't unpacked yet. What did Chief Hawthorne do here yesterday anyway? Well, he sat on a very comfortable box and gave me a thumbnail sketch of everybody who lives in Ridgely. For instance, Carl Baylor owns the hotel. He's lived here for some months, and the town is very lucky to have him. The also telly he doubles as my press agent? He didn't have to. I bet he didn't mention our village custom either. Which one is that? I want a charming newcomer who arrives in Ridgely. It's the duty of the town's innkeeper, that's me, to take it to dinner. Strange. Chief Hawthorne didn't say a word about that. Oh, but it's true. Now, you wouldn't want to break a tradition, would you? Oh, my goodness, no. Fine. Well, then I'll put me to work, see if I can. You do your work very well, don't you, Carl? Marty would be proud of the way you're taking his advice, biding your time with Claire Underwood. For the next two weeks, you help her get settled, introduce her to your friends, and the two of you spend many evenings together. Yes, Carl, you're doing a good job of groundwork. As the weeks pass, you're sure Claire is beginning to fall in love with you. And you'll take it easy, won't you, Carl? Play it safe. So the one day Claire and her fortune will be yours. Things are going well, aren't they? And then one night, you return to your hotel after a date with Claire. You start through the bar on your way to your office. Well, well, if it ain't my old friend, Carl, or who it's... Joe. Joe Roach. Small world, ain't it? What are you doing here? Sitting at the bar having a drink. Want one? No, no, I don't. How about coming into my office? You got one? Sure, I don't mind if I do. This way? Right in here. Well, you got an office and everything. You the manager? I own this hotel, Joe. Oh, and the name is Baylor, Carl Baylor. Yeah? You know, you look pale, Carl, real pale. What brought you here, Joe? Nothing, just drifting. Mm-hmm. How's, uh, how's Marty? Marty? Yes, what's he doing now? Funny you'd mention Marty, Carl. Is it? Yeah, he'd like to see you. Mm-hmm. He'd like to see you a lot. He what? I understand he's always asking about you. Nobody knew where you went when you skipped out with his money. Marty's willing to pay a nice piece of cash to know where he can find you. Hmm. Funny thing, you know, Marty don't like me. Yeah, I... Oh, but I could work for him again. I could do it real easy. I just tell Marty where you are and everything is hunky-dory. Is that what you're doing here, keeping out of Marty's way, huh? Yeah, just like you, Carl. Only there's a difference. I can go back if I tell Marty where you are. How much, Joe? That Marty will be real tickle to get his hands on you. How much? Marty will want to pay me something for bringing him the news. Marty can be real generous when he wants to... How much do you want from me, Joe? I'm your pal, Carl. We can make a deal. I won't turn you over to Marty. I'll stay right here in this town. And you can pay me $500 a week just for staying here. I can't afford it. It's worth it to you, Carl. I'll be right here. You won't have to worry about me blabbing. Just $500 a week. All right, Joe. Good. You know, you ought to thank me. I'm doing you a big favor. Yeah. But get this. There's an empty room in this hotel next to mine. That's yours. Daytimes, I want you to stay in that room. The town pretty much folds at night. You can go out a little then. But keep out of sight and don't talk to anybody, see? Suits me. I can use a vacation. Nice, secluded place. I mean it, Joe. Daytime, stay out of sight. Understand? Don't take it easy, Carl. Don't forget. I just gave you the biggest break you'll ever have. Well, Carl, it's finally happened. After all, you're running and hiding. One of Marty's old gang is finally caught up with you in Ridgely. Joe Roach. You can't afford the $500 a week. It will cost you to keep Joe from telling Marty Randall where you are. But if Marty should find out, it'll cost your life, won't it, Carl? Helping Joe out of sight unnoticed in Ridgely is not a simple problem, either. What would Claire Underwood think of your association with Joe and Marty Randall, Carl? And Chief of Police Hawthorne? Yes, Carl. You must be very careful and smart. You'll know that the next day when Chief Hawthorne calls on you. I have a chair, Ed. Oh, thanks, Carl. I will. Something a matter, Ed. You look worried. Carl, have you seen a stranger in town yesterday or today? Stranger? A little guy thin wearing a flashy suit looks like the racetrack type. No. No, Ed, I can't say that I have. Why? Well, I saw him this morning coming out of your hotel. Out of here? Yeah. That don't mean anything, of course, but he's the kind of fellow you notice, you know? I didn't like his looks. Something kind of familiar about him, too. Familiar? Yeah. You think you know who he is? No, but I've seen his face somewhere before. Oh. I guess I've taken my job too seriously. But I don't like characters like that in Ridgley. You're sure he isn't registered at your hotel here? No, I haven't seen anyone fix that description, Ed. Maybe he was just driving through, stopped here for a few minutes to eat or something. Yeah, maybe. Carl, huh? You sure you don't have something to tell me? Because if you're in trouble of any kind, I'm your friend. No, Ed, I don't have anything to tell you. I'm in no trouble. Okay, Carl. If you see this fellow, let me know, huh? Thought I told you to stay in your room daytime, so I went out a couple of minutes this morning to buy some cigarettes. So what? The chief of police saw you, you dumb dope. Yeah, and he thinks you look familiar. So? So that's what I meant when I told you to lay low daytime. Every new face is a number one topic of conversation in this town and the tourist season is over. I can't afford to let anybody not find out. Okay, okay. But this is worse than stir, except for my 500 a week. Yeah. Say, that reminds me. I was hearing some interesting things about you at the drugstore. If you told anyone you knew me, you're asked about me so help me. That, take it easy. I was just listening. Didn't open my yap. But what I'm hearing. Going around with a rich widow, they say. The town folks think maybe there'll be a wedding. So? So if you're going to get your hands on some big dough or marry in this dame, let's make me cost you a grand a week. You cheap little punk, so help me out with you. You stand to lose quite a bit. If I tell Marty, he could really mess things up for you. One, one grand a week. That's right. For how long? Don't rush me, Carl. I just got in town. Yeah, and you're leaving tonight. No kidding. You can't be seen here not even once more. The police are suspicious already. I thought the town is too small. Well, I could go back to Marty. I didn't know how he'd go for that grand a week. Oh, look, look, you'll get your thousand a week, but you're not going to stay in town here at the hotel. I have a cabin up in the mountains, not too far from here. You'll have to stay there. How do I know you won't skip out on me while I'm up there? How do I know you won't tell Marty no matter how much I give you? Yeah, I never thought of that, Carl. Not till just now. All right, I'll drive you up to that cabin tonight, Joe. You're sure of what you're doing now, aren't you, Carl? As you drive Joe Roach up to your mountain cabin, you're certain you've taken the one way out. Yes, Carl, there's too much at stake. Your whole future, your hotel, Claire Underwood, her money that you intend to marry, you won't risk losing that, will you? And Joe Roach is the one remaining link between you and Marty Randall. You're going to kill Joe, aren't you, Carl? It's the only way you can be sure that your past is dead. Hey, this cabin is okay. Big windows, fine view, nice bed. Of course it's a little isolated up here, but I think I'll like it fine. Hey, you got any booze at... What are you doing, Carl? You can see, Joe. I'm holding a gun. Oh, hey, now, wait a minute. You figured me wrong, Joe. You figured me all wrong. Oh, please, Carl, look at me. I'm all set, Joe. Own a nice little hotel in a resort town. Lots of miles between me and Marty Randall. We can make a deal, Carl. Everybody likes me and Richly, Joe. They respect me. I'm making good money. Pretty soon I'm going to get my hands on all the dough I'll ever need. Sure, sure, Carl. So you don't want no murder, right? Marty would never think of looking for me here, Joe. Woody. Look, you got it. So everything's perfect except for you. You can ruin everything. Just one word from you and I'm finished. I tell you, I'll leave. You don't know what you're doing. I'll never be able to rest a minute while you're alive, Joe. I'll always wonder, will he tell Marty? Will he keep coming back for money? Will he tell Marty? Listen to me, Carl. You've got to believe me. You've got to believe me. Now I do, punk. Now I believe you. Any of you who aren't planning to get a new car are giving some serious thought these days to how to make your present car last as long as possible. Well, the way a car is driven naturally has a lot to do with how well the car stands up. But an equally important factor is the lubrication and service a car gets. And that's where independent signal dealers shine. Having chosen the automobile servicing business as their permanent business, signal dealers are naturally interested in cars. With them it's not just a temporary job. In fact, most signal dealers have been in the service station business for years. That means they've acquired the know-how in taking care of cars, which can make such a big difference in performance. Also, since each signal dealer is in business for himself, he realizes that his success depends on keeping you satisfied. Because this conscientious type of personal service can add a lot to your car's life and your driving pleasure, it's another mighty good reason why each day more and more drivers are switching to signals. The famous go farther gasoline. Well, Joe Roach is dead, isn't he? And with him you're sure that your past is dead too. You're certain that Marty Randall will never find you and kill you for running out with his $60,000. With Joe Roach out of the way, you're sure you're in the clear. Free to marry Claire Underwood and her money. Free to live your life out undisturbed in the quiet little town of Ridgley. The gun that killed Joe Roach is still warm in your hand as you move toward his body. Hi, Carl. With that gun down. Ed Hawthorne, how did you find... I saw the whole thing through the cabin window, Carl. I wish I hadn't seen it too, believe me. I guess there's... nothing I can say. Nothing except why you did it. Oddly. It was blackmail. It had just plain blackmail. I wish you'd told me you knew this, man. This wouldn't have happened. I could have taken him off your hands, Carl. You could have what? I told you this guy, Joe Roach, looked familiar to me. And I told you I was suspicious of you. Yeah, yeah, I remember. I did some checking, then I said a wire. Tonight I got my answer. I was on my way to your hotel to tell you when I saw you drive out of town with him in your car. I followed you. Thought he might be troubling you some way. And I wanted to arrest him. You mean you came up here to arrest Joe? Yes. For murder. For murder? That's right. A year ago, Joe Roach shot a guy in the back. A big-time gambler. Name of Marty Randall. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Sunday night at the same time. Here's a reminder from the National Guard to men over 17 who are eligible for military duty. If you want to be sure of staying with buddies from your own hometown, train with your local National Guard unit. For more information, inquire at nearest National Guard headquarters. In tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Larry Dobkin, Jack Smite and Tom Tully. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen with story by Norman Kramer, 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 for the signal oil company. This is CBS, The Columbia Broadcasting System.