 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. Signal, 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 walked 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. Till death do us part. Roy Layton's quarters in the cheap boarding house were anything but inviting. And from where he sat on the edge of the sagging brass poster bed, Roy's view of the outside world was a dismal one. The assortment of unopened bills and collection notices in the nearby wastebasket held their grim message too. They told him that he'd have to be moving on soon. Change his address. The one letter he wanted but had given up hoping for wasn't there. Never would be he reasoned. And the knock on the door, rousing him from his mental fumbling, could mean only one thing. The landlady and her oft-repeated demand. I'm back again, Mr. Layton. To ask you once and for all, do you have... The rent, Molly. I know, I know. Well, it's like this, Mrs. Vasakari. I know how it is. I can see. I have eyes. Then there's no use talking. You know that the minute I hear from my uncle... Sayon that for months now. The minute you hear from your uncle Morton in Mexico. Well, I'm tired of that too. Tired of hearing of an uncle that for all I know might not even exist. Oh, you're so sweet. A real doll. I'm sorry about the rent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out to get a breath of air. Good night, Mrs. Vasakari. I'd appreciate it if you'd fixed the latch while I'm out. I'll fix the latch. Well, it shuts. That's what I'll do. As you leave the house and start walking toward Vermont Avenue, you're pretty sure that this time your landlady means what she says. It's tough, isn't it, Roy? Things never seem to go right for you. You'd like a drink, then decide you'd better skip it. Conserve the few dollars you have left in case your landlady carries out her threat to lock you out. Then you remember Angelo's, a second rate cocktail lounge a couple of blocks away, whereas late as yesterday your credit was still good. But once there you find things have changed at Angelo's too. Mac, the bartender, is even slower than usual in coming over to you. Sorry, kid. No dice. Huh? What are you talking about, Mac? I didn't even order. Well, I thought I'd save you the trouble. Angelo's has no more stuff on the cuff. But Mac, I haven't run up a bill on him, at least not a big one. Yeah, Angelo knows that, but he wants to keep it that way. I'm sorry, kid. I just work here. I want to keep on working here. In that case, you better get busy and fix my friend a drink. Huh? You don't mind, do you, Roy? Roy? Roy Layton. That is your name, isn't it? Sure. Only how did you know? Oh, I know quite a little about you. Been checking up. Um, what's his name? Oh, Mac? Mac, yes. Mac, you'd better get started before all your ice melts. A pair of scotch and so is. Oh, sure, lady. Sure. Say, now, wait a minute. Why should a good-looking strange gal... Now, Roy, don't go saying things you don't mean. Besides, I don't have to be a strange gal. Not if you know my name. It's Linda. Linda McKelvie. So? So, uh, don't you think it's kind of pretty? Maybe. Anyway, these drinks are set them down easy, Mac. Yeah. And since I'm drinking with a lady, try it out a couple of cocktail napkins. Okay, okay. Thank you, Mac. Skip it. To us, Roy. Hmm? Sure. To us. Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. Drinks okay. Very good for a place like this. You look like you could afford better. What brought you around? You. Me? Oh, sure. Now, look, lady. Linda. Linda, look. I'm just sitting here, minding my own business. But unable to do any, huh? So that's my business, too. And mine. Roy. Roy, I've been checking up on you. For quite a while. And you fit my picture very nicely. And, uh, you do need $5,000. Yeah. I need $5,000. Oh, I get it. Santa Claus finally got my letter, and he sent you to bring it. It's nothing like that. It's nothing altruistic. Big word. You are out of place here. So are you, Roy. I've got $5,000. It says you are. And going to listen to me. How can I help it? Go ahead. Roy. Roy, I'm... Well, I'm used to nice things. To be crass, I like money. My share, I mean. Maybe even a little bit more. I guess I'm just not a very nice person. Not many of my friends are. But I'm still listening. Fair enough. Oh, how about going somewhere else, huh? My cause parked outside. Okay, lady. Linda. And you'd better get used to it. It's as bewildering to you as it was to Mac, isn't it, Roy? This girl, Linda McKelvey, dropping into your life from nowhere, talking in circles and buying rounds of drinks. You wonder when the dream will turn into a nightmare, when she is going to give you the name of the bank she once held up. But it's nothing like that, is it? And sitting beside her in the car, you finally get the complete picture. It's a little fantastic. You want her to repeat parts of it. And then it's all quite clear. You really mean it? You want me to marry you and you'll pay me 5,000 bucks. Now, is it such a difficult assignment? No, no, but... But you still can't see why, huh? All right, I'll run through it again as many times as you want to hear it, Roy. I've got to have a husband, a legal, honest to goodness man about the house. And you've got to have him, me, by this certain date you mentioned. Yes, my 25th birthday, two months from now. It's all simple enough. My late uncle was eccentric, narrow-minded, opinionated. And rich. Very rich. According to his will, if I marry on or before my 25th birthday, I inherit over a quarter of a million dollars. And if I don't, everything goes to charity. And you are your favorite charity. I certainly am. But why me, Linda? You could have lots of guys. I don't want lots of guys. Oh, now wait a minute. You don't know me from Adam. All right, Roy. I'll tell you the truth. I love someone else, but... I made the mistake of falling for a married man. And his divorce won't be final for six months. It's too late to meet the demands of the inheritance. Oh, that's different. You want to eat your cake and have 250 Gs. Well, something like that. Well, Roy? I marry you, we make it look good, and then later we get a quiet divorce. Exactly. You're $5,000 richer and nobody's the wiser. Once I've got the money, there's nothing anybody can do about it. What do you say, Roy? I say I wish I had a rich uncle. Mine, he doesn't even answer my letters. Yours leaves you a quarter of a million bucks. Well, that $5,000 will give you a new start in life, Roy. And until we're divorced, you'll dress well and live quite comfortably in Mr. and Mrs. Roy Layton's apartment. Well, must I unbended knee? Find a preacher, honey. I'll do anything for money. Flatterer. The wedding a few days later isn't what every boy and girl dreams about, is it, Roy? But the hollow words the pair of you speak are just as binding in a legal sense. And you drive off swiftly as Mr. and Mrs. Roy Layton. You even have a sense of elation in the new clothes you're wearing. And returning to Linda's top floor apartment, 12 floors up in the best part of town, makes it complete. More complete than either of you expected. Or as you step from the elevator and she opens the door to let you in. That's what the devil... No, no, Linda, dear, don't come in. He must carry you. Carry you across the threshold. Oh, yes. Well, Roy? Oh, of course. Oh, great, great. That's better, much better. And now we'll all just scoot right along, Mrs. Layton. We just didn't want you two to arrive without any reception at all. Why, that's awfully nice of you, Mr. Knowles and Ms. Prentiss. Not at all. I enjoyed it. Also romantic. This is Roy. My husband. Nice to meet you. You'll forgive us, won't you, Mrs. Layton? We just wanted you to know your neighbors are happy for you. Why, of course. It was nice of you all to think about it. Well, we'd be running along. Good night. Good night. Good night. And drop in and see us any time, Mr. Knowles. Good night. Good night. Wow. How did they get in here? Mr. Knowles manages the apartment. Oh. Wow. Incidentally, it's some layout. As I told you, I like nice things, Roy. Yeah, yeah. You know that, Ms. Prentiss? We'll have to watch her. She's the inquisitive type. But wait. She can help us in a way. Her balcony adjoins this one. It won't hurt a bit to let her see us out there once in a while looking over the city. My arm's around you. A few fervent kisses. Got the idea? Just for Ms. Prentiss, yes. Well, anyway, this beats stevedoring in Frisco, working in the Oklahoma oil fields, digging around Mexico when Uncle Mort was wildcatting. Well, make yourself at home, Mr. Layton. Okay, Mrs. Layton. I'll do just that. It's all going smoothly, isn't it, Roy? Just as Linda planned. As the weeks go by, you meet other people in the apartment. People Linda had met before she married to. They seemed to like you. And most of all, they approve of the match. Linda assures you there'll be no trouble in having her uncle's lawyer accept it all as completely genuine. As the weeks pass, both play your roles well. And then late one afternoon, you hear some excitement in the hall and rush to the door. Oh, poor dear. You might have been killed. I'm all right now. Really, I am. You'd better lie down, dear. As soon as you get inside. That fool, he wasn't even looking where he was going. What is it? What's happened? I'm all right now, Roy. It was nothing at all. She was backing out of the garage. Another car hit her. Well, thanks very much, you two. But please don't bother anymore. Roy can take care of it. I'll carry you out of the bedroom. Now you don't have to carry me, Roy. I'll be all right. Oh, dear. Maybe I better call a doctor. No, Roy. I'm not hurt. I'm just shaking up. I don't think it's bad. It's only... Well, it could have been so much worse. Just think, Mr. Layton. What would you have left if anything really happened to her? Yes. Yes, what would I have? It's a terrible thought, Miss Prentice. Terrible. If rising prices have given you the idea that pennies have lost their purchasing power, folks, you haven't tried Signal Ethel Gasoline. And here's why I say that. For pennies extra, you can enjoy the premium quality of Signal's famous Go Farther Gasoline. But what a wonderful extra dividend those pennies return in driving pleasure. An extra you can feel and hear and see. Yes, with Signal Ethel powering your motor, you can see your car step out front when the traffic light goes green. On Signal Ethel Diet, you'll hear your engine purr contentedly as you soar effortlessly up hills where pings force other cars to shift. And should an emergency call for swift acceleration, you'll feel the way your motor takes hold with smooth, eager power on Signal Ethel. When a tank full of this Signal's super fuel is all it takes to discover the best performance your car can deliver, don't you think you owe it a try? My guess is you'll say, Signal Ethel is the best investment you've ever made in driving pleasure. Miss Prentice's question planted an interesting thought in your mind when she asked you what you'd have left if anything happened to Linda, didn't it, Roy? In the days that follow Linda's near accident, you often ask yourself the same question, what would you have if anything fatal happened to Linda? And the answer is very attractive, isn't it, Roy? You'd have a quarter of a million dollars as Linda's husband you'd inherit her money. But there's an easier way than murder, isn't there, Roy? A safer way. If you can make Linda fall in love with you, you'll be able to share her money. Try. You plan your campaign very carefully. Carry it out with all the charm at your command. Then one evening while the two of you are out dancing, you suggest a breath of air and lead Linda from the dance floor to the beautiful terrace outside. May I have a cigarette, Roy? Why, sure. Here you are. Thanks. Thanks again. Oh, isn't it a beautiful night? I just love it out here. Linda. Yes? Linda, I've been thinking about us. This little act we're putting on. You've been doing splendidly, darling. Yes, the happy devoted husband head over heels in love with his pretty bride. Yes, yes. Only now, Linda. Now it's no longer a night. What? What do you mean? Isn't it quite obvious? You're in love with me? There was so much in love with you, Linda. No, wait, Roy. I know, I know. It wasn't in the bargain to fall in love with you. I have fallen in love, Linda. I couldn't help it. Roy. Now look, look. I'm really not such a bad guy. I'm a good dancer. I wear my clothes well in perfect health. Oh, I do have a few faults. That's true, but... Roy. Roy, I'm not in love with you. But you... you could be, darling. No, Roy. Oh, Linda. Linda, darling. Let me go, Roy, please. I shouldn't have kissed you. I know that, but Linda... Look, we made a bargain. Now let's keep it that way. Oh, but Linda, please. I mean it, Roy. Okay. Okay. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's got to be. Yeah. I'm sorry too. Very sorry. She means it, doesn't she, Roy? And you're certain there's nothing you can do to make her change her mind about the divorce? There isn't time. Linda has told you the money from her inheritance is already deposited to her credit at her bank. And in a week or so, the two of you will be on your way to Reno and that quiet divorce. No, there isn't time to make her fall in love with you, Roy. But you decide there is time for something else. Next day, Linda leaves before luncheon to spend the afternoon at her lawyer's office, finishing up her affairs. Long after she's gone, you paste the floor of the apartment, searching your mind for a plan, a way to kill Linda, make it appear to be an accident. Early that afternoon, you're in the bedroom looking around when... Hello? Roy? Yes? This is Amelia Fleming. Oh, Mrs. Fleming, how are you? I'm splendid, thank you. Oh, is Linda home? Well, I know. No, no, she isn't. I don't expect her back until after five or so. I see. Important, really. Well, I'm sure she'll be back around five. Why don't you call her then? You better have her call me. I'd probably call while she was in the bathtub. Oh, don't you worry about that. Linda generally takes the phone right... Yes? Roy? Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Fleming. I'll tell Linda you called and have her phone you. Oh, that's fine. You stand there for a moment, staring at the telephone in your hand. Then slowly you replace the receiver, walk back into the living room. A plan has suddenly emerged, hasn't it, Roy? A telephone, a loose wire, and a bathtub full of water. You've read of it happening, and you're sure there's no reason why it can't work. And by the time Linda returns shortly after five, you've arranged everything. You wait until you hear the bathwater running. Then you call out to her in the bedroom. Linda? Yes? I'm going out for a few minutes. Fresh out of cigarettes. Can I get you anything? Not a thing, Roy. Oh, I'll be back soon. No, hurry. I'm going to soak in the tub for a while. You walk down to the corner drugstore, wait over a cup of coffee for five minutes. Then you step to the phone booth, with there's someone inside. You look at your watch and return to the counter. Five minutes go by and then ten. And then the booth door opens, and the woman who had been monopolizing the phone walks away. There's still time, isn't there, Roy? You're certain of that. Linda will still be in the tub. The phone on the stand within easy reach. When she answers it, the loose wire will pull away from the receiver and fall into the tub of water. Linda? Linda? That does it. Slowly you walk back to the apartment. But instead of going on up to your apartment on the 12th floor, you stop at the manager's apartment and ring the bell. Yes? Oh, Mr. Layton. Mr. Knowles, I wonder if you'd do something for me. Of course, of course. Well, our refrigerator's been acting up a bit lately. I'd like you to have a look at it, if you don't mind. Be glad, do, Mr. Layton. I hope I'm not taking you away from your dinner. No, nothing like that. Come on, let's go up and have a look at it, eh? It seems like it's been running a lot more than it should. That's all? Well, we just see what's wrong. Yes, sir. Come in, come in. Linda! Linda, you home, darling? Oh, that's funny. She should be around. Linda! Linda! What's the matter, Roy? Oh, nothing, nothing. It's just that you answered so suddenly, that's all. Oh, good evening, Mr. Knowles. Good evening, ma'am. I asked Mr. Knowles up to have a look at our refrigerator, Linda. You know it hasn't been acting right. Oh, hasn't it? No, no, it hasn't. Well, I'm awfully glad you're here, Mr. Knowles. I was about to come downstairs to ask you to call the telephone company. Something rather startling just happened. It scared me to death. What's that, ma'am? Well, I'd just gotten out of my tub when the phone rang. It was on the stand in the bathroom, and I picked up the receiver, and by the way, I just slipped out and fell into the tub. Say, we better see about that right away. Good thing you weren't in the tub when it happened, Mrs. Layton. Well, I should say so. I might have been electrocuted. It didn't work, did it, Roy? And Linda is still very much alive. Somehow you managed to cover your disappointment, act properly concerned over the near tragedy. You've got to find another way now, and there isn't much time left. It's after dinner that the idea comes to you. Perfect, isn't it, Roy? And this time you'll make certain. While Linda is busy in the kitchen, you slip out onto the balcony, take a wrench, and loosen the bolts on the handrail. If Linda leans against the rail, your problem is solved. Not a light push. Just the slightest jar will accomplish your purpose. And Linda's money will belong to you. At the sound behind you, you drop the wrench into the flower box and straighten up. What are you doing, Roy? Oh, nothing. I just looking for my cuff link. I must have dropped it here somewhere. Oh, Roy, I meant to tell you. While I was downtown today, I made plane reservations for tomorrow. We'll be leaving in the afternoon, four o'clock. Oh, I see. So this is our last evening here. I'm afraid so. Well, I'm going to miss all this, Linda. You won't change your mind, I suppose. I mean about us. No, Roy. I won't change my mind. All right. Well, say, how about a drink out here on the balcony, huh? One last look at the city of Los Angeles together. Why, Roy, I think that's a wonderful idea. All right, you just stay right here, Linda. I'll get the drinks. I'll farewell drink. There's only one accurate way to compare the cost of automobile batteries. Compare the cost per month. That is, the price of the battery divided by the number of months for which the battery is guaranteed. Measured by that yardstick, one of today's lowest cost batteries is the extra long-life signal-deluxe battery, guaranteed a full 30 months on a service basis. Think of it, that's two and one-half years. The secret of this amazingly long life is signal's microporous all-rubber separators, which have been called the greatest battery improvement in 20 years. Because these unique separators have twice as much acid solution between the plates, you get up to 35% more power for quicker starting, plus plenty to spare for your radio and the other electrical gadgets on today's cars. So before you buy any battery, get your signal dealer's generous trade-in offer for your old battery, plus his convenient credit terms. See for yourself that it actually costs less per month to enjoy the quicker starting, long, trouble-free performance of today's finest battery, the signal-deluxe battery. There's little question of the suspect's guilt. To police Lieutenant Cosgrove, it was a clear case of murder. The victim had been deliberately pushed off the 12th-story balcony. Lieutenant Cosgrove knew that, and before long, he'd know the motive, too. As he paced slowly back and forth in the small room at police headquarters, he felt certain that a full confession was close at hand. Finally, he stopped pacing, sat down in a chair facing the suspect, who was sitting rigid and tense, trying to avoid the Lieutenant's gaze. Look, you might as well break down and tell us what this is all about. You know, Miss Prentice, who lives in the apartment next to yours, so you push your victim off the balcony. All right. All right. Why, Mrs. Layton? Why did you do it? It's a long story. All right, take your time. Well, perhaps it isn't such a long story at that. You see, I was born in Los Angeles, lived here until a few years ago when I took a job in Mexico, and up to six months ago, I was secretary to a man there named Morton Layton. Layton? Any relation to the deceased? Yes. Yes, he was Roy's uncle. He died about six months ago. Before that, he'd been trying to find Roy. Roy wrote him several letters before he died, but Morton Layton never knew about them. I... I destroyed them. Why? Because I didn't want them to get together. And then when... when old man Layton died, I came back to Los Angeles, where I knew I'd find Roy and marry him. And murdered him because you thought... Roy never knew it. He never knew that he was a missing ear. You see, his uncle struck it rich in Mexico. He left him a quarter of a million dollars. I was trying to get that money for myself as Roy's widow. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program The Whistler each Sunday night at the same time. Signal Oil Company has asked me to remind you that the USO, which serves as a home away from home for our boys in uniform, is one of the worthy services you help when you contribute to the community chest. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Wally Mayer, and Gene Spalding. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Joel Malone, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional. 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. Stay tuned for our Miss Brooke starring Eve Arden, which follows immediately over most of these stations. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.