 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 Girl! Signal, the famous go farther gasoline, invites 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 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 The Whistler's strange story, A Woman's Privilege. In the drawing room of a palatial home in Beverly Hills, hang a pair of priceless oil paintings. One of an Italian nobleman, the other of his wife. The surfaces are cracked, the frames old and wormy, but the colors are almost as fresh and brilliant as if they were painted yesterday. There's a strange connection between the paintings and a sordid ugly scene in a Los Angeles police station. It's very late, and in the next room, a homicide lieutenant is grilling a suspect on the charge of murder. Oh, but he's coming along. Lieutenant Brady's getting to him, huh? Give the lieutenant five minutes more. The guy's ready to break now. You know, I can't help feeling there's more to this than the guy's telling. Something that maybe even he doesn't know. Yes, it was more than a simple murder. More than the homicide detail or anyone else would ever uncover. It was the story of a traveling art broker named John Winters. Of a casual trip to the picturesque Italian seaport of Venice. Of the unbelievable, stunning moment in his hotel room, when a quiet little artist named Giulio Donatti put a quarter of a million dollars in the palm of his hand. Well, Signor Winters, what do you think? Well, it's pretty hard to believe. But the seeing is believing, eh? Tell me, what do you think it would bring on the American mark? Well, I don't know. It's been so long since anything like this. Oh, but you do know, Signor Winters, at this moment your head is spinning with the features. Well, after all... Of course, of course. So you will agree I am giving it to you for almost nothing when I ask only just $75,000. $75,000 for an original Montenegro? Thank you for being very reasonable. Thank you, Signor. Too reasonable. What's wrong with it? Still skeptical, eh? You're very hard to convince, Signor Winters. Look, suppose I leave it with you for, say, 24 hours so you can examine it very closely. You're pretty sure of yourself, Donatti? Well, I would not have come to you if it weren't sure that the painting would pass the inspection of the best expert. Your reputation as a specialist on Montenegro is known all over the continent. Yes, well, this is a Montenegro if I ever saw one, but $75,000. Signor, there will be many who will say it's Montenegro's best work. Well, I'd agree with them. It is. It's so funny about that. Well, you flatter me. What? You see, I painted it myself. You what? I wanted to know that. It took me many months. No, wait a minute, wait a minute. You're telling me that you... I painted it myself, Signor. Oh, but the technique, the style... They were difficult to master. The oils were hard to find in the aging process. Signor, it was hard to work, but you see, it had its reward. Yes. Is, uh, this the only one? No, I completed a pair. The other was sent three weeks ago to a broker who was highly recommended to me in Los Angeles, a C.L. Brickley. I expect to hear from him tomorrow. Does he know about this one? Well, of course. I informed him in a confidential letter. I should think you'd keep it under your hat. Forgery is a serious business, you know. Please. They are not forgeries. I claim only to paint in the manner of Montenegro. I intended to pawn off a forgery here. Would I have been so frank? Yes, but you know what's going to happen. This Brickley will peddle that picture as an original. Signor, what you people do with my paintings is your own business. I am an artiste, not a forger. But I think you will find me discreet enough. Well, then I must go. You may examine the pictures closely as you want, the Signor. Um, where can I reach you? My studio, 11-plata franquette. Good, good. Before noon, eh? Yes, right. Good day, Donati. Good. Long distance, operator. I want Mr. Wilkin Potter, Chattelaine Hotel and her luck in Switzerland. Person to person. Wait a minute, Potter. I tell you again, it's the McCoy, an original Montenegro. He's pulling, Bowser. I told you, he doesn't know what he's got. The artist only touched it. I saw it with my own eyes. Are you telling me I don't know a Montenegro when I see one? And what about this Brickley? He bought the mate to it. But, John, I just can't... All right, all right, all right, Potter. If you don't want to advance me the money, there are plenty of others. Don't do that. And that's better. You'll hear from me in a couple of hours. Well, John, Donati was right, wasn't he? Your mind is whirling with figures as you hang up the phone. Hurry across town toward the little shop in the Plaza Franquette. Yes, there's over a quarter of a million dollars in that special built briefcase under your arm. Provided that the three people in the world who know the truth are... discreet. That's the only gamble, isn't it, John? You and Donati and Brickley, the Los Angeles broker. With three who know, there's always a chance that one might talk. You turn a corner into the Plaza, wondering if Brickley had thought of that one. The answer comes suddenly. A crowd is gathered at the front of Donati's shop. What's the matter? What's happened here? Get back, please. What is it, officer? What's happened? The proprietor of this shop, Senor Donati, was a shop. This you, Potter? Yes, John, go ahead. Well, it looks like the deal's off. What happened? We were a little late. Brickley got there first, huh? Yeah, Brickley got there first. Thanks for the offer, Potter, but I won't need the money now. I'm on my way back to the States, Los Angeles. A $20 signal gasoline book is being sent to Mrs. Georgia Vainig of Venice, California as a token of our appreciation for this limerick. There once was a camel named Flo, whose mileage on water was low. But this far sight had last switched to new signal gas, and now she has get up and go. SIGNAL, SIGNAL, SIGNAL GASILINE Your car will go far with go, Father Gasoline. Perhaps it may strike you as strange that a camel in the limerick drank signal gasoline. But there's nothing at all strange about the fact that Flo found new get up and go when she switched to signal. After all, fast-starting peppy pickup and smooth, quiet power naturally go hand-in-hand with signals' famous mileage. They're all the result of the more efficient performance that today's signal helps your motor deliver. So whether you're looking for economy or just real driving pleasure, next time your gas tank gets thirsty, follow the advice on those signal billboards you've seen. Next time, fill up with signal, the famous go farther gasoline. It's only a few days from Venice, Italy to New York, then on to Los Angeles by plane. But it seems a great deal longer, doesn't it, John? You try to concentrate on other things, but your mind keeps going back to your suitcase in the luggage compartment. To the masterful piece of forgery sewn in its lining that will bring at least a quarter million on the American market. Yes, Donati was clever, wasn't he, John? Too clever. And to you, at least, it's clear that this bricklay, whoever he is, knew that a clean deal could never be made if the secret of the forgery were shared. And that, of course, added up to Donati's murder. You have a surprise for bricklay, haven't you, John? But you know you have to be careful. On the afternoon of your arrival in Los Angeles, you walk down the corridor of a building in the Miracle Mile District. Pause and press a buzzer. Yes? I'm looking for Mr. C. L. Brickley. Oh, what did you want to see Mr. Brickley about? Well, it's a personal matter, is he in? Just what is it you're selling, Mr.... Winters, John Winters. I'm really not selling anything. Oh, I see. Well, I guess this suit does need pressing, but it's really not that bad, Miss... Brickley. Oh, his daughter. I'm C. L. Brickley. What? Himself. Well, a woman. But a woman who isn't interested in a vacuum cleaner at the moment, perhaps some other time, Mr. Wainwright. All right, Miss Brickley, have it your way. A friend of mine told me you had a picture or two that might interest me. Wait a minute. What kind of a picture? Oh, I'm collecting Italian Renaissance. You? Honest, Miss Brickley, I've got 11 other suits, and if I'd known I was calling on such a beautiful businessman... Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Winters. Please come in. Shall I bring my vacuum cleaner? No charge for the demonstration. I fear I'm suffering. Come in. Face it down. Thank you. Here's my card. As you can see, I'm an art broker. I'm a broker too, Mr. Winters. Yes, I see. You mentioned Italian Renaissance. What did you have in mind? Venetian school in particular. You know, of course, authentic Venetian things run a little high. How high? $300,000. Well, that's high enough. What is it? A Montaigne. Oh, now, wait a minute. I know. It's hard to believe. It came to light during the war. I was very lucky. You're positive it's authentic. You want to see it? No, that won't be necessary. Here, let me check my briefcase. Well, I have the picture in my safe. Just a minute. Just a minute. Ah, here we are. How do you like this one? Where did you get that? Same place you got yours, Miss Brickley. Same artist, same convincing technique. Who are you? Winters. The name's Winters. Now, what do I mean? Where did you come from? Don't worry about me, lady. I'm authentic. Let's stick to the Montaigne's, huh? All right, Mr. Winters. How many of these are floating around? Two. And how many know about this? You and me. That is, since you, uh, took care of Donati. It's a little crude. All right, so you had it done. What's the difference? That still leaves two. You'd be smart enough not to give the hired help your reasons. You've got it all figured out, haven't you? Oh, it's water over the dam. Let's talk about the pictures. You know, we're hooked with each other. You know that. I might not be so bad, Mr. Winters. Better make it John. All right. John. You know, we've got a lot to talk over, C.L. I know. But since you're not quite the kind of guy expected to meet, why don't we, uh, switch the conference to, uh, nightclub? I'd like that. Okay, pick you up around eight. Five. Oh, uh, and don't worry. About what? I'll wear another suit, one that's pressed. You know, C.L., you don't dance at all like a stuffed shirt. You like? Yes, I like. But tell me more. Oh, no, not at a business conference. Oh, very good. So bring Brickley, darling. Where have you been? Hello, Mrs. Carlton. One of my clients. When am I going to see you, dear? It's been a day. Well, I may have something to show you in a few days. Oh, good. Don't forget me, will you? Don't worry. Mrs. Carlton, huh? You didn't tell me about her. She has money, darling, but not the kind we're after. Well, who does it boil down to? They're pretty hard to find, you know. People who put out half a million for a pair of paintings. I've put out a couple of feelers, but... A couple of feelers? Yes. You mean you're going to help me sell mine? Well, I was thinking about it. Not much sense in being competitive, is there? No, I guess there isn't. Besides, if we both know where both paintings are, there's less chance of complications later, don't you think? Uh-huh. 50-50. 50-50. I beg your pardon, Miss Pritlin. Yes? There's a call for you, Mr. Gross. Mr. Gross, what is... Who's Mr. Gross? He's, uh, one of the clients I told you about. He said it was quite important, Miss. There's a cause. Excuse me, John, I'll be right back. She gives your hand a little squeeze as she turns to leave the floor. Floats past the row of ringside tables and out of the room. She is beautiful, isn't she, John? Slim, graceful. The captain of her evening gown clinging to her like a glistening white sheep. And for the moment, you forget everything else. The Montaigneas, the half million, the wealthy clients, everything. Everything that is except that you're dealing with a killer who's as sure as you are that those paintings can never be sold, as long as there are two minds in the world who know their forgeries. If only she weren't so breathtaking, so beautiful. What's on your mind, John? Oh, I'm... Get up. Miss me? Naturally. Uh, what about Mr. Gross? Oh, that was nothing. You said he was a client, but it's on his mind. Well, he's, uh, interested in Venizan's art, you know. Oh, good. He knows about the Montaigneas, huh? More or less. What do you mean, more or less? Well, I told him I had something that would interest him. Make an appointment? Yes, because I told him I'd get in touch with him in a day or two. Good. Well, let's forget about business for now, shall we? The music's so wonderful. I do love to dance with you, John. You wish Lorraine didn't affect you this way. That you could approach the whole thing with a clear head. But it's something you've never known before, really. The music, the vibrant, thrilling feeling that sweeps over you as you dance with her. Her warm, low voice in your ear. But no matter how much you tell yourself that business is business, the feelings still layer the next morning when you arrive at her apartment. You pause for a moment before you buzz. Decide once again that nothing must stand in the way of the picture deal and the half million dollars. Hello, partner. Partner? Any objections? Not if I've really made the grade. You have, definitely. Come in. Thank you. I, uh, wish I could be sure I'd made that grade. I don't know what more I can do to make you sure. I'm trying to arrange for the sale of both Montaniers through my own contacts. I just have to. No, but the sale of two Montaniers will bring twice as much money as the sale of one. I want it. Half of this goes to you. I told you this is a 50-50 deal all the way. Yeah. You made a deal with Donati, too. He's not around anymore. Still accusing me of that, huh? I can add up a column of figures as well as the other guy. All right. John, have it your way. I guess you were smart, though. It was a sure bet with one picture. With two, it's a gamble. More than that... Let's not talk about that anymore. I don't want to be cruel. Just practical. Oh, uh, cigarette? Thanks. There you are. Well, what's next on the program? Beautiful. Mr. Gross? I... I don't know, John. What do you mean you don't know? You're not getting cold feet, are you? You said he was interested. Oh, I know, but... Well, that's good enough for me. If you don't want to see him, I will. John, we've got to trust each other now. You know that. Just make an appointment with the guy for me. I want to see him. John, I... I don't know why I'm saying this. I've never said it before, but... What is it? We... We'd be awfully good friends. Well, that's wonderful. I'm very flattered. I've, uh, got to be careful, though, you know? Playing with dynamites. John... I'm talking about Donate. You did it once. You could do it again. I'm talking about us and what good friends we could be. Uh, we'll discuss that at length after we take care of the pictures. Pictures? What do you mean? We're going to wrap them up, darling. We're going down to Union Station. Yes, sir? I want to check this package. John, what are you doing? Just a minute, Lorraine. Here you are. Click. Ten dollars. 10? What do I do? Uh, just give me the claim check. Okay. Here you are. Now, watch. I tear it in half. See? Here you are, Lorraine. That's yours. What are you doing? Now, what's this all about? Uh, give me a piece of paper and a pencil there, will you? I want to put a note on the package. Thank you. Yeah. To, uh, deliver it only when both halves of the claim check are presented. Now, we are. You get it? Well, I don't know. You want that ten bucks? Oh, sure, sure. All right, here's the note. Paste it on the package. All right. All right, good. Thank you. Come on, Lorraine. No, I think this is all pretty silly. Maybe it is, dear, but I do a lot of silly things for a quarter of a million bucks. But, uh, don't get me wrong, Angel. I trust you like my own mother. I just trust you a lot more after you fix up that appointment for me with your friend, Mr. Gross. How soon can you make it? Well, I, I don't know, John. I'm not sure. Let me handle it then. When can you get a hold of him? I'll call him tomorrow. It isn't easy, is it, John? You leave her standing there in the station, fighting to get her out of your mind and your heart, knowing that you must never let her come between you and the business at hand. The appointment with Mr. Gross. The next evening, you go to her apartment, determined to see it through. As you walk down the hall, the door is slightly open. No. You hear her talking on the telephone. No. You stop still and listen. No, there isn't going to be any deal, Mr. Gross. Forget I ever told you to come here at 11. The appointment is off. I know what I told you, Mr. Gross, but that was before... Well, it's different now. I'm changing my plans. That's right. It's got to be this way for the present. Right. Goodbye. You stand there for a full minute, thinking, and then make up your mind. Two can play that kind of a game, can't they, John? And you know the one who wins is the one who gets there first. It's me, CEO, your partner. Oh, John, come in. Where have you been all day? Why don't you call a guy? I've been waiting to hear from you. Did you get hold of Gross? Oh, yes. He's not interested, John. That's funny. Looks like a sure thing, doesn't it? Guy has money, crazy about Italian pictures. What about the others? Oh, sure, sure. Just takes a little time, huh? That'll be worth it. Yeah, I suppose it will. How about a drink? Um, I've got the car outside. It's a nice night. I thought you might like to go for a drive. Sounds wonderful. Maybe along the beach, huh? Uh-huh. I'll get my coat. Only be a minute. Take your time. Don't worry. It doesn't take long, does it, John? Now that you've made up your mind to it, just a few miles of riding, talking idly with the automatic hidden down beside you in the seat. Occasionally you glance from the road at her beautiful face in the moonlight. That's something you'll never forget. That face with the moonlight working magic with her hair. It even looked beautiful a half hour later when you looked at it for the last time. Only then it was very still, with a quiet, wax-like beauty of death. An hour later, you've dropped the automatic into a storm drain. You're back at her apartment, both halves of the claim check in your pocket, going through the wastebasket next to the telephone. Ah, here it is. A little slip of paper with the name Gross and the telephone number. Mr. Gross? Yeah? I'm calling for C.L. Brickley. I have a message. Go ahead. Miss Brickley says the appointment is on again. She's changed her mind. Right? 11 o'clock at the apartment. Here's news about the greatest improvement in automobile batteries in 20 years, which is now yours to enjoy in Signal's new deluxe battery. I'm talking about micro-porous all-rubber separators, the type which has proved its superiority in submarine batteries. Because these highly porous separators hold twice as much acid solution between the plates, new Signal deluxe batteries deliver up to 35% more power to take care of the many electrical gadgets on today's cars. What's more, the extra long life of micro-porous separators makes it possible for Signal to guarantee these new deluxe batteries, not just for the usual 12 or 18 months, but for a full 30 months on a service basis. That means you're actually saving money while you're enjoying the extra power and dependability of a Signal deluxe battery. So before you buy any battery, get your Signal dealer's generous trade-in offer for your old battery. Find out his convenient credit terms. Prove for yourself that today's best battery buy is today's finest battery, the new improved Signal deluxe battery. Yes, it was a long trail that finally ended in that Los Angeles police station. A trail that began in Italy with an artist who painted a pair of pictures in the manner of Montaigneur and died because of them. Lieutenant Brady of Hummerside is done his job now. The suspect has finally begun to crack. You know we've got the goods on you. Why don't you... Stop it, will you? Stop it! All right. I'll stop it. You ready to talk? Yeah. Yeah, I'll talk. All right, let's have it, Gross. The whole story and the whole truth. The guy in Italy. Donati. I killed him for the brickly day. Money? Yeah. Why did she want him dead? I don't know. I didn't ask any questions. She sent me to Italy to kill him, and I did. When I got back here in LA, she called me again. She wanted me to bump off another guy. Oh? But the night I was supposed to bump off this second guy, the brickly dame changed her mind. How come? I don't know, but she called up and said the deal was off. Then what? Later I got a phone call that the deal was on again. So I went over to her apartment, and there he was. And that's how you happened to murder John Winters. That's it. I guess the brickly dame changed her mind again. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler, each Sunday night at this same time. Brought to you by the signal oil company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality 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 Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles 55, California. All limericks become the property of 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 Betty Lou Gerson and William Conrad. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Joel Malone and Harold Swanton, 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 this same time next Sunday, another strange tale by the Whistler. A story between the ages of 17 and 34 can earn extra money and qualify for retirement pay by taking part-time military training at home. For full information, see local headquarters of your National Guard. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.