 And now stay tuned for the program that has rated tops and 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 Farther gasoline, invites you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by 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. The Tall, Thin Man. The dim light at the seventh floor landing caught the last labored steps of the man as he climbed the stairs. Breathing hard his face beaded with perspiration. He drew in his breath, set his jaw and began climbing the last three flights. This was a new experience for Gordon Manning, entering the building at the back end, climbing the back stairs, and all the while racing against time. But you can't risk being seen, can you, Gordon? No, it's all important that tonight of all nights you must not be seen anywhere near your estranged wife's apartment. You finally reach the tenth floor, then you walk down the empty hall until you come to her door. Good evening, Lynn. Gordon, how nice, come in. Oh, here, let me have you, Cotin. This is nice and cold a few minutes ago. She'll be here in about half an hour. She's been in Europe if I remember the Society College. Yes, she got in yesterday. I should be delighted to see you. Sit down, Gordon. Sit down. I'll get you a drink. Oh, no, never mind. I can't stay, Lynn. I... Oh, I see. I'd hope. Gordon, Gordon, if you'd only realized... I only realized you're trying to cling to something that's been dead a long time, hanging on with her three lives you're ruining by doing it. It's that kind of visit again. I shouldn't have bothered to take your Cotin hat. I'll bring them back. Lynn. Lynn, I ask you for the last time. Let me go. You're hurting me. Lynn, in heaven's name, what are you trying to do? What are you trying to prove? I'm trying to let you find out for yourself what a fool you're being. I'm trying to prove that a marriage of 10 years can't be broken by a girl like Dean, a girl 15 years younger than you, who's infatuated only by the thought of what you can give her with your m... You certainly are changing, Gordon. Now it's slapping women. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to slap you. But I want the divorce, Lynn. If the year now you've kept me dangling, what good is this dog in the manger attitude give us both a chance? I shall never give you a divorce, Gordon. I've waited a year now. I can wait lots longer. All right. I tried. Believe me, I tried. I didn't want to have to... There's no need for you to stay. I'll get your hat and coat, Gordon. Talking won't do any good. No. No, I suppose not. She said it for you, didn't she, Gordon? Talking won't do any good. As Lynn turns from you and starts for your hat and coat, you know you must put into action the plan you came prepared to follow out, if she refused to divorce you. In one swift motion, you step forward, grasp the heavy bronze figurine from the coffee table. Lynn's dead, isn't she, Gordon? Quickly you wipe your fingerprints from the murder weapon, get a pair of gloves from your coat, strip the big diamond rings from Lynn's fingers, the diamond bracelet from her wrist. Then you hurry to her bedroom, take all the jewels from a jewel case, and generally ransack the room. You look like robbery, murder and robbery, who did, Gordon? And then you remember, Lynn's friend Anne is due in half an hour. As you leave, you make sure the door is slightly ajar so that Anne can go right in when no one answers her ring. And when they phone you, as you know they will, you'll be home playing chess with Professor Noy. Yes, you hurry down the corridor toward the back stairway, but before you reach there... Sorry, I didn't see you. I'm afraid that I almost knocked you down. That's all right. I was preoccupied myself. Well, no harm done, eh? Oh, no, no, no. Of course not. No harm done. He brushes past you hurriedly, but you know he saw you quite plainly, don't you, as plainly as you saw him, fully ahead taller than you, very thin, with high cheekbones and a long prominent nose. He disappears down the hall, shocked, immobilizes you for several seconds, and then realization hits you. And you begin to run down the back stairs. He can identify me. He can swear I was here tonight. Although I don't have a crystal ball in the studio tonight, I'm going to predict something. I'm sure you'll be doing this summer if you're the average driver. You're going to be driving down a lot more miles of open highway, driving up a lot more hills, as balmy weekend weather invites you to get behind the wheel and enjoy the beautiful outdoors. When you head up those steep hills, naturally you want a powerful gasoline, one that propels you smoothly, easily, over the top without shifting. And when you soar down those highways, naturally you still want a powerful gasoline, one that sweeps you along quietly, effortlessly, like floating on the wind. In short, you want Signal Ethel, the premium grade of Signal's famous go farther gasoline. This super powerful super fuel is scientifically engineered to bring out the best in any car of any age. In fact, after you drive into a Signal station and fill up with your first tank full of Signal Ethel, I'm going to make another prediction. You're going to be proud and pleased as punch with the way your car performs on Signal Ethel. Well, you've finally done it, Gordon. Yes. Lynn, your estranged wife lies dead in a swank apartment. You've taken a jewels to make it look like the work of a thief, and it all went well, didn't it? Until in leaving, you collided with a tall, thin man coming down the hall. You know he saw you as clearly and distinctly as you saw him. Now back at your apartment, you enter cautiously. Seated in the big leather chair, sound asleep from the sedative you'd slipped into his drink, just as you left him, his old professor Fred Norton, in front of him on the small table with chestnut on moves since you left. You glance hurriedly around, search for a safe place to hide Lynn's jewels. Decide the rubber plant in your hallway is ideal. You push aside several handfuls of soil, drop in the jewels, replace the soil and pour a glass of water over. Then you return to the living room and shake the professor, Jen. Fred. Fred. Hey, hey, wake up, wake up. Come on, sleepyhead. My George. Don't tell me I've dozed off again. You certainly did, Fred. You know, this is getting to be a habit with you. So it is. So it is. My George, I'm sorry. I feel like I slipped an hour. Oh, no, no, no, not that long. Only about 10 minutes, really. Just long enough for me to mix us another drink. Here. Thanks, Gordon. Now, let's see. Where were we? You were a move, Fred. Though the chess game resumes where it left off a little more than half an hour ago, you've assured old professor Norton that he'd been asleep for only about 10 minutes and he doesn't question it. On numerous occasions before, he's dozed off during your games. That's what gave you the idea for your perfect alibi. The minutes go by. It's been three-quarters of an hour now since you've returned to your apartment and should have found Lynn's body by now. Your phone should ring soon. Soon. What's that? Watch out, Gordon. You'll have set the board. I'm sorry, but is it the phone? Excuse me, minute, Fred. Yes? Yes, I'm Mr. Manning. Yes, yes, I know you, Mr. Rand. What is it? My wife, Lynn. Good Lord. I can't believe it. Yes, yes, of course. I'll be right over. The police? Oh, you have. Yes, yes, I'll be right over. Fred. Fred, it's Lynn. Eh? Lynn? Gordon, what's wrong? Lynn is dead. Murdered. Murdered? I don't understand. I don't either. I can't believe it. I've got to get over there quickly. I'll go with you, Gordon. Oh, yes. Yes. I wish you could. Oh, Mr. Manning, come in. Come in. It's dreadful. Simply dreadful. It doesn't seem possible. It just doesn't seem possible. Mr. Rand, this is Professor Norton. Fred, Mr. Rand, the manager of the building. How do you do, Professor Norton? This is shocking, Mr. Rand. Shocking. Professor Norton was with me when I got your call, Mr. Rand. He was good enough to do. Gordon, oh, Gordon, thank heaven you're here. Poor Lynn. Poor Lynn. And yes, yes, it's terrible. Just terrible. Mr. Rand says that you found her. Yes. I rang the bell. No one answered. The door was open, so I went in. And there she was. Oh, Gordon. Gordon, this is Dr. Doctor, I'm terribly sorry. I'm so upset. I can't remember. I understand. I'm Dr. Roberts, Mr. Manning. Yes. How do you do, Doctor? I'm sorry, Mr. Manning. There's nothing I could do. She was dead when Mr. Rand and I got up here. Mrs. Raymore, one of my patients here in the building, passed away this evening. I was in Mr. Rand's office when this young lady called. I can understand. Why would anyone want to kill Lynn? Perhaps the lieutenant can tell you better than I, Mr. Manning. Lieutenant Williams. Yes. Lieutenant, this is Mr. Manning, victim's husband. Well, I'm glad we were able to get hold of you this fast, Mr. Manning. Lieutenant, who would kill her? Why? Burglary. Looks as though Mrs. Manning surprised the thief and he killed her. Burglary? Yes. Her jewel box seems to have been ransacked. And it looks as though rings have been taken from her fingers. Oh, you can help us with that. You must be familiar with the jewel. Oh, yes, yes, of course. I gave her most of it, but where, where is she? They've taken her into the bedroom. When, when did it happen? Well, I was just talking to the doctor. He places the time at about nine o'clock, a little more than an hour ago. Now, Mr. Manning, let's sit down over there. There are some questions I'd like to ask you. Yes, Gordon. There are questions, many questions. And it was good to have the professor right there to corroborate your statement, that the two of you had been playing chess from seven o'clock, right up to the time you had received the call from Mr. Ran. He didn't even mention dozing off. Later, alone in your apartment, you sink into a chair and try to think. The whole thing has come off perfectly, perfectly except for the tall, thin man you met in the hall as you were hurrying from your wife's apartment. Yes, he could send your alibi crashing down about your head. Couldn't he, Gordon? Jean. Hi, darling. Surprise. I was on my way home from Mary's when I saw your light, and I couldn't resist coming up for a moment. Jean, I, I think you'd better not come in. Gordon, what is it? You're trembling. Something wrong? It's Lynn. She's dead and murdered. Dead? Murdered? No. About 10 o'clock, I got the call from Mr. Ran. He's the manager of Lynn's apartment building. Fred and I went over right away. Well, the professor, he was here when you got the call. Yes, yes. They say it was burglary and most of her jewelry was missing. Gordon, are you all right, dear? It must have been awful for you. No, no, no. I'm all right. It's just my head still spinning. First the shock and then all those questions the police will turn and throw at me tomorrow. I have to go down and see him again. Questions? But you told him you were with the professor all evening. No, Jean, Jean, Jean. Relax, darling. They have to ask questions. That's their business. I know. I know. It's just that I'm worried. I can't help it, Gordon. I'm worried. I'd like to have you worried about me, Jean, but there's nothing to worry about. But now you'd better run along. It wouldn't look good if you... Yes. Yes, of course. Good night, dear. Good night, Jean. The next morning you hurry out and get a paper. It's there in big black headlines. Society woman slain. Below that a recent picture of Lynn. And then the whole page seems to jump out at you. For beside Lynn's picture is a large clear close-up of you, Gordon. The tall, famed man will have no trouble identifying you now, will he, Gordon? You don't know who he is or where he is. And there's Lieutenant Williams. At one o'clock you decide to drop in at his office, casually ask him if he's making any progress. You must find out if the tall, thin man has identified you. No, I'm afraid we haven't uncovered anything new, Mr. Manning. Not a trace of the jewelry yet. We've got every pawn shop in town covered. That seems to be our best bet. We don't have much to go on. No fingerprints. No one was seen to enter or leave the apartment. I see. Thought we were doing everything we can, Mr. Manning. Yes, yes, I'm sure you are, Lieutenant. You're still above suspicion when you leave Lieutenant Williams' office. But somehow you've got to find the tall, thin man before he goes to the police. He knows, doesn't he, Gordon? He's seen your picture, knows who you are. And more important, he knows a good thing when he sees it. You're a wealthy real estate broker and shake down with blackmail. Yes, Gordon, that's it. You're sure of it. Now you know there's nothing to do but wait. Tonight that afternoon, almost closing time, your secretary, Miss Adams, enters your office. Mr. Manning, there's a Mr. Wellman to see you. Wellman? Wellman, I don't place them. Has he been in before? I believe not, Mr. Manning. I don't believe I've ever seen him before. Um, what does he look like? Well, he's tall. He's quite tall and thin. Mr. Manning, is there something? Shall I tell him you're busy that you can't see him now? No, no, no. Don't do that. Send him in, Miss Adams, and see that we're not disturbed. Yes, Mr. Manning. You may go in now, Mr. Wellman. You stiffen as the man looms tall and thin in your doorway. Then you relax. It is not the man, is it, Gordon? Just a man to inquire about a piece of property. That night you take Lynn's jewels from their hiding place in the base of the rubber plant, drive to a deserted section of the lakefront, and certain as no one near, you throw the box as far as you can out in the deep water, and then, shaken, unsteady, you drive home and prepare for the nightmare of the days ahead, the endless, nerve-taught waiting for the tall, thin man who can blow your alibi to bits. If you could only find out who he is, where he lives, if you could surprise him. What a week goes by, 10 days. And then on the morning of the 11th day, you're at the office, dictating to Miss Adams at her desk. And at the meeting called yesterday, my associates and I have decided to give your offer our approval. And in view of the... No, no, Miss Adams, scratch that. It's not just what I want. Hey, let's try it this way. At a special meeting called... What happened? Mr. Manning, what is it? Oh, the newspaper. I brought it to work with me. I didn't get a chance to... Oh, that plane crash. Did you know someone on board? Plane crash, huh? Oh, no. No, it isn't that. It's just that lately I haven't felt so well these. His headaches. We'll let the letter go for a while. Now, let's borrow your newspaper if I may. Relax a little. I'll bring you when I'm ready. Yes, Mr. Manning. Alone in your office you stare at the paper, not at the plane crash headline, but at the picture of a man. Your eyes hurriedly take in the caption above his picture. Mrs. Elva Raymore leaves fortune to nephew. He's your man, isn't he, Gordon? The tall, thin man. You jot down his name, Lawrence Holcomb, and his address. You've got to think carefully now, Gordon. Lawrence Holcomb is your man, all right, but you must be sure that he's not already gone to the police. And there's just one way to be sure, isn't it, Gordon? It's a bold move. But by late afternoon, you're certain it's a move you must make. You leave the office and go to police headquarters. Hello, Sergeant. Oh, hello, Mr. Manning. I'd like to see Lieutenant Williams. Okay, I'll bring his office. Good. Oh, here he is now. Oh, hello, Mr. Manning. Lieutenant, I... Well, I guess you know why I'm here. I just want to know if... If anything is turned up. No, I'm sorry to say, there's nothing new at all. Not a trace of your wife's jewelry. And the way this case stacks up, if we don't get a lead on the jewelry, we don't have much to go on. Yes, I see. Well, I... I know how you feel, Mr. Manning, but we haven't given up. We never will. Sometimes, you know, these cases crack in unexpected ways. Crazy ways sometimes. So, uh, don't give up hope, Mr. Manning. Uh, come on, I was just leaving. I'll walk to the corner with you. All right, Lieutenant. Oh, excuse me a moment. Uh, Sergeant. Yes, sir? Would you try and get in touch with that fellow, uh, the one who inherited the Raymore money? Uh, her nephew, uh, what's his name? It's, uh, Holcomb, Lawrence Holcomb. Oh, that's right. Try to locate him, will you? I'd like to see him in the morning. Right, Lieutenant. If you'd careful a cup of coffee, Mr. Manning, well... You're sure now, aren't you, Gordon? Lawrence Holcomb hasn't contacted the police, not yet. But Lieutenant Williams wants to see him in the morning. You have time now, haven't you? Time to do what you must do. You must make sure that Lawrence Holcomb never sees the police. The Lieutenant walks you to the corner, and then you part company. Once at home, you take the small automatic from your bedroom. And at eight o'clock that night, you're pushing the buzzer at Lawrence Holcomb's apartment. Yeah. I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Holcomb. Yeah, how do you sell it? Ever since the papers came out with that inheritance story, I've been tested by guys like you. What is it? Gold mines or oil wells? I'm not selling anything. Don't you recognize me, Mr. Holcomb? No, not in this light. I don't. Come on in. Just got back from a trip and packing for another. Maybe you can find something to sit on that isn't a suitcase. I'd rather stand. This won't take long. Now then, take a good look at me, Holcomb. It's you. Manning, isn't it? Gordon Manning. I got tired waiting for you, Holcomb. But out of town, like I said, I've been meaning to do something about you. I don't get you, Holcomb. You haven't been to the police, you haven't tried to blackmail me yet, and you don't need any money now. What is it? What do you want? Don't worry, Manning. I want something all right, but... Oh, wait a minute. I don't answer that. What do you mean? What is it? Stick up. No, no, not quite. Just don't answer that phone. Okay, so I won't answer it. Now, put that gun away. No, no, no. You see, I know things that you don't know, Holcomb. I know the police want to see you in the morning. The police? Yes, yes, but you've waited too long. So have they. You are not going to live to tell them I was in my wife's apartment the night she was murdered. No, Manning, wait a minute. You don't have a minute, Holcomb. But I have. Now, I've got all the time in the world. Tonight, Signal Oil Company has asked me to thank all you Whistler fans for two wonderful things you have done for us. One, your loyalty to this program has made the Whistler the most popular West Coast program in radio history. And two, your loyalty shown in purchases of Signal products has helped to make this last year the greatest year in the entire history of Signal Oil Company. But believe me, we're all mighty thrilled about both of these wonderful records that your friendship has made possible, and we want you to know how much we appreciate it. As we enter the ninth consecutive year that Signal has broadcast to Whistler without interruption, the largest number of broadcasting stations we have ever used, 22 in all, will take this program into homes throughout all the Pacific Coast states served by Signal Oil Company from Canada to Mexico. So even when you're traveling this summer, we hope you'll continue to join us on Sunday evenings for your favorite mystery. And when you need gasoline, naturally we hope you'll fill up at those friendly stations that feature the famous Go Farther Gasoline. Signal service station. It's over, isn't it, Gordon? You've shot Lawrence Holcomb, the tall, thin man who was the one person in the world who could identify you as having been at your wife's apartment the night she was murdered. You leave Holcomb's apartment for the back stair, but this time you're not seen. You're raced to your car and drive home, suddenly secure in your mind, certain the threat of the tall, thin man has gone forever. Back at home, you realize you can plan your marriage to Gene. A long trip together, far from the trying ordeal of the past few weeks. Your thoughts filled with new dreams and plans are suddenly interrupted. Hello, Manning. Lieutenant Williamson, I... Well, come in, come in. I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Has something turned up? Yes, something's turned up. Remember I told you cases like this sometimes crack in crazy ways? Yes, yes, yes, I remember. You killed your wife, Manning. No, no, no, no. You're wrong. You can drop the axe. I know you killed her. Holcomb told me everything. Holcomb? But he couldn't... He wasn't quite dead when I got to his apartment, man. But how did you happen to... How did I happen to be there before he died? I've had a phone in this evening. There was no answer. I was pretty sure he was in his apartment, probably packing for a getaway, so I went up there. A getaway? He was running from you? You bet he was. The night you murdered your wife, Holcomb admitted he murdered his aunt in the same building by suffocating her with a pillow. His aunt? Mrs. Rainhorn? That's right. Her autopsy said it was a heart attack. I thought it was murder. But Holcomb could prove he was 300 miles away that night. As long as I couldn't break that alibi, he was safe. And Holcomb was afraid that I would break his alibi? That's right, Manny. Holcomb never would have identified you. If he had, he'd have signed his own ticket to the gas chain. That will be your signal for the signal oil program the Fistler eats Sunday night at this same time. Signal Oil Company has asked me to remind you. Next Sunday, June 10th is Children's Day. So this week, be sure to drive extra carefully. Obey traffic regulations and don't take chances. You may save a life. Possibly a child. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, John Daner, June Whitley, Bill Boucher, Michael Ann Barrett, Norman Field, and Stephen Chase. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen with story by Edwin K. Spangenberg, 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, two persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember to tune in at this same time next Sunday when the Signal Oil Company will bring you another strange story by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. Stay tuned now for our Miss Brooke starring Eve Arden, which follows immediately over most of these stations. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.