 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. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies the Signal Oil Program, 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. And now for the Signal Oil Company, The Whistler's strange story. Patroness of murder. Paul Wilson moved about his studio, adding the final touches of preparation for two expected guests. Two very important guests. One of them, Miles Hubbard, the aging sculptor, turned critic. Could hold the key to the success of Paul's career. His nod of approval could mean a future of security and position. Without it, the world might never know the talents of Paul Wilson, sculptor. And Paul was certain that his second guest, Don Alden, had arranged this meeting for the sole purpose of getting an expert's appraisal of his work. But it was no gesture of friendship. Paul's meetings with Don had never been friendly. This one would be no exception. Paul was certain of that. Their cold exchange of glances when Paul met them at the door proved that. The forced presentry is over with. Paul showed them to the studio. And this gentleman is my workshop. Mm-hmm. Fine studio, Wilson. Plenty of room. Good lighting. Everything a room can offer the artist is here. The rest is up to the man himself, eh, Wilson? Oh, that's quite right, Mr. Hubbard. The rest is up to the man himself. I hate to take too much of Mr. Hubbard's time, Wilson. Can we see your work? Whenever Mr. Hubbard's ready, I'll be glad to show him. When one grows old, Wilson, one learns the great wisdom of economy. Economy of time, economy of words, economy of emotion. Oh, yes, it's a great lesson to learn. I tell you this because when I look at your work, I shall have an instant evaluation. Either it will be good or bad, and I shall tell you immediately. It's an honor to have you here, sir. I'm anxious for your opinion. Yes, well then, may we see some examples of your sculpture? Now, please. Right now. There you are, gentlemen. My latest. Mm-hmm. Yes. Yes. There is promise here. There is not yet greatness, but there is much promise. Much great promise. Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you very much. You mean it's really worthwhile then, Mr. Hubbard? Worthwhile? Yes, worthwhile. But promise. That's the word done. Mostly there is promise. I'm afraid Mr. Alden has thought of me chiefly as a stone mason, or felt perhaps that I should carve soap. I wanted to be certain that's all for Aunt Martha's sake. She's been financing your work for a long time now. She'll be repaid later. Well, perhaps if you're as good as you've made her think you are. Miss Alden thinks well of the young man's ability, Don. Very well. She told me the other evening she's planning to leave him half of her estate so that he can continue his work if anything happens to her. That's why your opinion is so important, Miles. I see. Well, he has the virility, Don. You can see it, can't you? And a strong feeling for material. There is much of mess to make here. You studied with him, perhaps, was it? Not directly, no. Mr. Vick, famous Balkan sculptor. Mr. Vick's work is very distinctive, entirely free from the French in France. You didn't study abroad, did you, Wilson? No, no, I didn't. I... Oh, it's you, Michael. Back from your shopping so soon? Yes. Oh, I'm sorry. Paul, your guest. My houseman and helper, gentlemen, Michael Dubovitch. Gentlemen. Well, we must go now, Wilson. Economy or time, you know? Michael's entrance was ill time, wasn't it, Paul? You quickly look for meaning in Don's expression and then in Miles Hubbard's placid face, but you find none. Perhaps they suspect nothing after all. You grow more certain of that as you see them to the door. Miles Hubbard repeats his appreciation of your work and you say your farewells. After your guests leave, you turn angrily to Michael. Why did you burst in like that without knocking? I'm sorry, Paul. I didn't know you had guests. Sir, but couldn't you hear us talking? Well, I suppose I did hear you, but I assumed your guests were merely friends who had dropped in. My guests were merely Miles Hubbard, the greatest authority on sculpture in the West. Yes, I know. And Don Alden, nephew of Miss Martha Alden, the lady who is providing the money for us to continue our work. Yes, Paul. I didn't realize. And you're supposed to be my houseman. Yes, I know. Well, then act like a houseman. Yes, Paul. I'm sorry. In the future, you'll have no cause to complain, however. I shall be a model gentleman's gentleman. Okay. See that you do. And never again shall I enter the studio unexpectedly. And if there are guests present, I shall wait outside for their departure, for hours if necessary. Oh, I know it isn't pleasant playing houseman, but right now it's... Well, it's the only way I can explain your presence. This studio, Miss Alden's help, is important to both of us. Of course, Paul, and I want you to know I'm very grateful. My food, my clothing, money to spend, a place to live and work, right? I owe it all to you. Not to me, Michael. To your undeveloped talent. I recognized it instantly. Miles Hubbard simply confirmed my faith in you. It's a very great honor. Now, after one or two showings of your work using my name, my connections, I'll be proud to step aside and announce you as the promising creator. Yes, and then I shall tell them what a fine friend and benefactor you have. Yes, I'm sure you will, but until then, for our sake, for your sake, I mean we must both feed our arrangement with strictest confidence. Of course, Paul. By the way, did you study with Mestrovic? Mestrovic? Oh, yes. For the great privilege, the master himself. I'm glad. I'm very glad, Michael. Oh, for you, of course. That approach has always worked with Michael, hasn't it, Paul? You've traded on his hunger, his fears, his insecurity in a new land. You won't mind exploiting his promising talent as your own, even though you've convinced him that his obscurity is only for a little while. Yes, things are moving along nicely, aren't they? And your situation looks brighter than ever. A few days later, Linda Wells, attractive secretary to Miss Martha Alden, your kindly, elderly sponsor, phoned you. Hello? Hello, Paul. This is Linda. Linda, you should do this more often. I feel better already. Well, you'll feel still better when I tell you the reason for this call. Miss Alden's coming to the studio to see you this afternoon. Clear cock shop. You'll be there, of course. Yes, yes, of course. But what's it all about, Linda? She didn't say. All I know is Miss Alden talked on the phone with Miles Hubbard. Miles Hubbard? Mm-hmm. And she seemed very pleased afterwards. You're sure? Quite sure. A few minutes later, she ordered her car and asked me to phone you. She'll be there at three, Paul. I'll be here. Thanks for calling, Linda. Well, Paul, the critic, Miles Hubbard's visit to your studio with Don Alden, Miss Alden's nephew, has rebounded to your interest, hasn't it? You know that Don brought him to the studio on the belief that the famous critic would brand the sculpture as worthless. Instead, he praised it. And now Miles Hubbard has told Miss Alden herself that it's good. Yes, Michael is a fine sculptor, isn't he, Paul? And a valuable houseman. You're curious as to what you'll have to say and decide it will be just as well if Michael is elsewhere during Miss Alden's visit. So you send him off to buy supplies with instructions to take his time. With Michael out of the way, you pace the studio impatiently until Miss Alden arrives. Then you lead her through the studio, past the small entrance leading to the kitchen, enter the door to your combination den and living room, and sit spellbound as Martha Alden enthusiastically explains the reasons for her visit. But Miss Alden, I can hardly believe you've left half of your estate to me. I've been thinking about it for a long time, Paul. I've had such faith in you. That's why I was so pleased when Don suggested that before I took definite action, Miles Hubbard looked at your work. Well, I wondered about his visit. And when Mr Hubbard verified my own opinion, I decided to go ahead immediately. That's why I signed the documents this afternoon. But your nephew Don, if he didn't even like the idea... I haven't told him or anyone that I've actually drawn a new will. And I don't intend to, for the present at least. Well, Paul, it's no longer a question of maybe. Martha Alden has actually willed you half of her fortune. The necessary documents are signed and sealed. It is hard to believe, isn't it? After Miss Alden leaves, you return to your den, light a cigarette, and gaze dreamily out of the window. You look up startle at the sound of your name. Paul. Michael, I didn't hear you come in. I came back a little while ago. I went to the kitchen. Did you? I got all the supplies. Paul, you have a visitor in the studio, Mr Alden. Don Alden? Yes. Well, I'll see him right away. Well, Mr Alden, this is a delightful surprise. Is it? Or, surely, what's on your mind? I just wanted you to know, Paul, I've discovered the truth about you. What do you mean? That I'm certain you're a fraud and a cheat. In a few days I'll have the proof to expose you, publicly. Tonight's $20 Signo Gasoline book goes to Mrs. C. E. Grindel of Seattle, Washington for this limerick. Our old car had all it could take. There wasn't a hill it would make. Then with signal we gassed her. Now it runs so much faster, we drive with one foot on the brake. Say no, say no, say no gasoline. Your car will go far, but go for the gasoline. You may not actually have to keep one foot on your brake after you switch to signal, like the driver in the limerick. But your accelerator foot will thrill the signal's smooth surges of lively responsive power. That's because peppy performance just naturally goes hand in hand with signal's good mileage. So whether you're looking for economy or for sheer driving pleasure, look no farther. Just drive into a signal station and fill up with signal. The famous go farther gasoline. You reel under the impact of Don's words, don't you, Paul? He's called you a fraud. He says he expects to prove that you're a fraud. Your return is steady gaze and hope to fear and panic that you feel doesn't show on your face. You've got to keep your nerve, your composure. You need it now more than ever as Don continues to build his case against you. It seems such a coincidence, Paul, that your work showed a distinct Mestrovic influence. Especially since I've learned through his immigration papers that your houseman, Michael, comes from virtually the same section of the Balkans as the great sculptor himself. As you say, a coincidence. This cable I've just sent might interest you. I doubt it. I think it will. It's addressed to Mestrovic in Belgrade, asking a very simple but very important question. Was Michael Dobovich ever a student of yours? Your answer important to his career. Interest you? It's too ridiculous. When I get the answer I expect, I'm certain Aunt Martha will see her protege in an entirely different light. The instance I hear from Mestrovic, I will tell Aunt Martha everything. You'll be finished, Paul. You'll be completely finished. Don's been quite thorough, hasn't he, Paul? He's always hated you. You've known that. But you didn't know the lengths he'd go to to ruin you with Miss Alden. You must stop done. Somehow you're certain of that. But how? Hours later you're still wondering and thinking. It's a sleepless night for you, isn't it? What are you going to do? Leave? Disappear before Mestrovic's answer can come? By morning you know that if you leave all your dreams of money, the inheritance leaves with you. Your mind is tired from thinking and indecision. You have no answer, have you, Paul? By noon you still have no answer and then... the phone startles you, but you manage to answer. Yes? Hello? Oh yes, yes, Miss Alden. How are you? I'd like you to come... Yes, of course. Is something wrong? I don't want to talk about it on the phone. Can you come here right away? Of course, Miss Alden. You're breathless when you arrive. Miss Alden takes you to her upstairs sitting room where she asks a question of her own. Paul, who is Michael Dubovic? So Don has told you. You can't believe him, it isn't true. I've done the work, Miss Alden, I've done it all. Michael is just what he seems to be. He's a student. Where is Don? I've tried to locate Don. I don't know where he is right now. But he has told me nothing, Paul. Just but then how? I opened the address to Don. I opened it. He's never received a cablegram before. I thought it might be important. It seems to be very important. You don't understand, Miss Alden. You must let me... I didn't understand any of it at first, Paul. I'm just beginning to realize. And it isn't easy to admit I've been a fool. But I have, haven't I? Please, Miss Alden, you must believe me. Paul, how can I? Your own first words when you came in told me the story. It had never even occurred to me that you were using Michael... What are you going to do, Miss Alden? You haven't left me any choice, Paul. I'll change my will, of course. Change your will? Of course. Surely you don't expect me to... You're not going to change that will, Miss Alden. Paul? Paul, what are you going to do? You're not going to get a chance to change that will, Miss Alden. Martha Alden's will can't be changed now, can it, Paul? It's beyond the reach of any change. Yes. She met her death when you pushed her down the stairs. And her position will make her death appear to be an accident. You descend the stairs slowly. That's when you see the cablegram crumple at her side. The cablegram from the great Mestrovic to Don Alden, stating that Michael Dubovic, your house man, had been one of his prize students. Quickly you snatch it, and the bright flame of the library fireplace destroys it into meaningless ashes. You must continue to act quickly. You must get out of the house, and you must not be seen. You turn to go and you hear voices. Someone is coming. This won't take long, Michael. Don't worry about it. But I don't understand. Why did you bring me here, Mr. Alden? I just want to ask you some questions, Michael. And I want Aunt Martha to hear your answers. Don, with Michael, you whirl around. It's too late to reach the door without being seen. Quickly you open the basement door, step inside, and hurry down into the musty darkness. You feel your way cautiously across the basement, to the back door. You find it locked. You stop and listen to their footsteps overhead. Then you hear them move into the library. It's only a matter of minutes until they discover the body of Miss Martha Alden. Softly you move up the stairs again. Open the door. You can hear them, but you don't dare run for the front door, do you, Paul? Perhaps we should not disturb Miss Alden. I don't want to answer any questions. The answers won't hurt you, Michael. I'm sure of that. You just sit here, and Martha and I'll be down in a minute. Please, Mr. Alden, I don't like this. There's nothing to say, and Paul... Don't worry about Paul. Michael, quick, it's Aunt Martha. Oh, where is she? She's dead. Oh, no. No, I... Stay here, Michael. No, I've got to phone the doctor. Michael! Michael seems to be running now out of the house, Paul. And as Don hurries in the other direction to phone, the side door is free for your escape. You dash out into the winter darkness. Michael will be going home, and you must be there first, Paul. You race down the dimly-lit street, hail a taxi at the next boulevard. Nothing matters now, Paul, so much as beating Michael home. And you do it. You're stretched out reading when he enters and pours out the tragic story of finding Miss Alden's body. You stand up well under the shock, but Michael's overcome. Poor Miss Alden. It was so terrible, Paul, and Mr. Alden. I'm so sorry. I don't quite understand why you were with Don, Michael. Well, I don't really know. He picked me up in his car and drove me straight there. He said there were questions. Paul, what will we do? For now, I think we'll do nothing. Don's taking you there, it's so strange. That's it, Michael, we'll do nothing. We'll say nothing. We wouldn't want to get Don in any trouble. You're still certain Miss Alden's death will be called an accident. But if it isn't, if it's called murder, you're sure that you can put the blame on Don. You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, Paul? His taking Michael to the house will make it seem that Don Alden was badly in need of a witness to discover the body with him. That's quite a coincidence, isn't it? And there was a strong motive for Don, too. He could have killed his aunt to prevent her from changing her will to leave you half of her fortune, a substantial half that would have belonged to him. And best of all, no one knows that Miss Alden had told you she'd already changed her will. It's perfect for you, isn't it, Paul? It will seem that you had no motive, whatever, that it was to your interest for Miss Alden to live. You turn on the radio to await developments an hour later. Miss Martha Alden, previously tapped accidental, is now believed to be murder. Details are fragmentary, but the position of the body and identifying marks on the staircase have prompted police to begin questioning all concerned. They call it murder now, Paul. They've been questioning everyone concerned, and they're making a sudden decision. Well, you've got to go to the police before they come to you. You have a story to tell them, haven't you, Paul? A story you're certain will convince them that you're innocent, and Don Alden is guilty of Martha Alden's murder. Reaching homicide, you stage a nice act. You came in the interest of justice, and the lieutenant seems interested. That's why I came as soon as I heard Lieutenant Hegstrom. I want to help all I can. Thanks. You know Mr. Alden here, I suppose? Don Alden, I'm glad you have him here, Lieutenant. There's your man, Lieutenant. Paul Wilson. Now, just a minute, I'll do all the accusing here. Either of, you could have done it. None of the circumstances, I'm sure, one of you did. Now, look here, Lieutenant. And not just a minute. The more I look at this thing, the more I'm sure it's a matter of motive. Find the motive, and you find the man. Don has all the motive in the world. He knew Miss Alden was going to change her will and leave me half of her estate before she could do it. Yeah, this is true. He told me so himself. That's true. You see, I had no motive at all. I had everything to gain by her living. She was planning to make me one of her heirs. What about that, Mr. Alden? Wilson had to kill her. Before she discovered he was a fraud, I had the evidence. I'm not a fraud, and even if I were, what good would have done me to kill Miss Alden? Her living would have given me exactly what her death gave you. Her money. Alden was there. He even took Michael along as a witness to help him discover the body. He had the motive. What more do you want, Lieutenant? Not much. You know, Mr. Alden, if I were you, I'd be thinking up some answers for the DA. While watching some Christmas shoppers the other day, I couldn't help feeling it's too bad folks aren't as careful in selecting their motor oil as they are in selecting Christmas gifts. If they were, a lot more drivers would switch to signal premium compounded motor oil, the improved type oil that does so much more than just lubricate. You see, because signal premium combines scientific compounds with 100% pure paraffin base, it does things for your motor which the finest oil alone cannot do. One of these compounds, for instance, specifically prevents destructive corrosion inside your motor. Another compound in signal premium actually washes out harmful carbon, and still other compounds help in other important ways to keep wear down and performance up. So, if you want to keep your motor young, get your next oil change at a signal service station. Change to the improved type oil that does so much more than just lubricate. Signal premium compounded motor oil. You're in the clear now, Paul. Your certain Lieutenant Hegstrom is convinced of Don's guilt. Find the motive when you find the man. That's what he said, Paul. You're pleased, aren't you? And you know the story by heart that will convict Don as you tell it to the police stenographer for the permanent record. You've just finished and started to go and... Just one more detail, Wilson. Come back a moment, will you? Of course, Lieutenant. Glad to. By Michael. Yes, Paul. Paul, I've been so worried about you. Michael seems to be a very loyal servant, Wilson. Yes. Yes, he is. You needn't have worried, Michael. I'm just fine. Oh, but he has word, Wilson. He's worried a great deal. He even thought we might be holding you for the murder. And he came here with something he says proves you couldn't have done it. Well, that's very nice, I'm sure, but... Go on, Michael. Tell him what you just told me. Yes, sir. I told him you could not have done it, Paul. I told him you wouldn't have done it. How much you thought of Miss Alden after she'd been so kind? How she'd changed her will, left you half of her money? But, Michael... Go on, Michael. Tell, Wilson, how you knew Miss Alden had already changed her will. Remember, Paul? You told me not ever to burst in on you when you had guests. So that day Miss Alden came to see you, I waited outside the room. I did not burst in, but I couldn't help hearing her tell you she changed her will that afternoon to give you half her money. Paul? Paul? Have I done something wrong? I'll answer that, Michael. You've done something right. Alden told the truth. He's the one without a motive. You lied, Wilson. You had the motive. But, Lieutenant, I... You knew Miss Alden had already put you into her will. You killed her to keep her from cutting out her, out of your will, out of your inhabitants. Like I said, find the motive, and you'll find the murderer. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Sunday night at the same time. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine automotive accessories. Remember, if you would like the fun of having your friends hear a limerick of yours on the Whistler, the address to which to send it is the Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles 55, California. All limericks become the property of the Signal Oil Company. Those selected for use on the Whistler will be chosen by our advertising representatives on the basis of humor, suitability, and originality. So, of course, they must be your own composition. Featured in tonight's story were John Hoyt, Paul Avery, Gloria Gordon, and Paul Freese. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by David Ross, 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.