 Forces Radio, invite 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 the Whistler Strange Story, The Prosecutor. The courtroom was tense now. Assistant District Attorney Philip Graham was beginning to summarize for the prosecution. In the case of the people versus Thomas Anderson, the thrill of success was in his speech as he moved in for the kill. In addition to the fact that circumstance linked the defendant irrevocably to the killing, he still persists in his refusal to testify. Still offers no explanation as to his whereabouts on the night in question. Solely on the basis of possible self-imprimination. And you were right, weren't you Philip? Less than 10 minutes after the jury retired, they walked back in with a verdict you knew was coming. And Tom Anderson was on his way to the cell in condemned role. But that wasn't all though. No, far from it. Most important was what your colleagues were saying as they clustered around you. Well, this will put you to the top of the heap, Phil. You'll have that mahogany desk, old man, in the Hall of Justice. And there'll be a brass name plate. Philip B. Graham, District Attorney. You'll bet you with this conviction you can't miss. And they were right, weren't they, Philip? The voters made it official two weeks later. And only you know what kind of a job you really did. Yes, it isn't easy to convict a man when you know in your heart that he's completely innocent. But you're not thinking about that at the victory celebration. There's too much else going on. Congratulations. That's laughing. Important people. And above all, a beautiful brown-haired girl with clear blue eyes and a quick, easy smile. I, uh, didn't quite get that name. Corinne Scott. Oh, Mr. Graham, how wonderful to actually meet you. But not at all. The pleasure's mine. I know you've heard it many times, Mr. Graham, but... Well, I thought you were magnificent at the Anderson trial. No. I was only doing my job. A public prosecutor. My, it's almost like playing fate. Now, wait a minute. I mean the idea of holding the fate of a fellow human being in the palm of the hand. It's, it's a little frightening and such a responsibility. Yes, it is a responsibility. Of course we make pretty certain of our facts before we step into a courtroom and start making accusations. Of course you do. All American custom, you know, a man is innocent until proven guilty. But just think, Mr. Graham, in this case, the jury was about to let that killer go free. Why has it hadn't been for you? Yes, I, uh, I had a feeling about Tony Anderson from the very beginning. It must have been a very hard fight. And it wasn't easy. Of course, if a man knows what he's doing and, uh... And where he's going. What do you mean? Well, I guess I, I admire ambitious men, Mr. Graham. I admire them very much. Thank you, Miss Scott. I probably shouldn't say this, but... Please do. Well, I think this is a silly way to celebrate anything so important as becoming district attorney. A duffy reception and a lot of politicians. Now, if I were running things... Yes. I'd get rid of the politicians. I'd reserve a table for two with a little restaurant I know, where the steaks are heavenly and there's vintage wine, crepes du zé... And champagne. Birdkeekle 1940, all that. How does it sound? You're a pretty good sailor. Well, that's all. That's what I do. And when would you do it? Oh, tomorrow night, perhaps. Say about nine? Um, you know I'm a married man, of course. What that got to do with the victory celebration? Well, if that's the way you look at it. Nine o'clock tomorrow night. All right, Miss Scott. Well, Phillip, you know what's the foolish thing to do. But there's something in the way she looks up at you and smiles that makes it all sound very reasonable. And you forget about everything else. Your wife, your son, David, in medical school. His good friend, Professor Bentley, who thinks you're the greatest man who ever lived. At 8.15 the following night, you're standing before the mirror in your bedroom, adjusting your tire. Corinne is lovely, isn't she? And as you put on your dinner jacket, you're thinking of the soft lights in the music. Oh, there you are, Dad. Here he is, Professor. Almost gave you up, Dad. Thought you weren't coming. Hello, son. You got the culprits at last. I told you you wouldn't walk out on us, Dave. Hurry up, Dad. We're a half hour late as it is. What do you mean we're late? Hey, what's the idea of the dinner jacket, Mr. Graham? Yeah, there's nothing formal about this. Wait a minute. What's this all about? Huh? You going somewhere? Are we going somewhere? Dad, you didn't forget. Oh, forget what? Tonight you promised you'd go. I promised I'd go where? Don't you remember the faculties having a father and son night? Yes. Professor Bentley's in charge. Good Lord, I did forget. Oh, I know, Mr. Graham. You're a busy man. Dad, you've never forgotten before. You've come with us every year now. I'm awfully sorry, son. Professor, I just can't make it. What is it? Where are you going? Well, it's a committee dinner, son. Very important. I simply can't get out of it. But, Dad! I said I can't get out of it. Let it go with that, will you? All right, Dad. I'm sorry. And that was the beginning, Philip. You didn't know it then, but you made a choice that night. A choice between your family, your home, and Corinne. And as you and Corinne continued to meet secretly during the weeks that followed it, began to worry you. Not your family, of course. It was your position, your reputation. Philip, I think it's wonderful. All you've accomplished. Corinne, I, uh... There's something I think... You don't have to say it, love. I know what you're thinking. Do you? You're wondering when I'm going to tell you I want out. When I'm going to try of loving a man I can never be seen with. Corinne, dear, I... Is that it? Frankly, yes. Please don't think about it anymore. I don't want to break up your home. I never will, darling. Because it would hurt the very thing I admire you for most of all, your career. That's all. Well, Philip, you can have it all now. Your family, your career, and Corinne. She's right, isn't she? The one all important thing in your life is that name plate on your desk. Philip D. Graham, district attorney. And you know now that you'll never have to choose between that and Corinne. And then one night a few weeks later you return unexpectedly from a business trip and decide to drop in to see her before going home. If you walk up the steps out of the porch, you hear voices. Disturbing voices. That is just the way I feel about it. You can't tell me everything's over between us. It's gotta be over. I can't turn my love off just like that. As you grab the handle of the front door, a rage wells up inside you, gripping your stomach, rising in your throat, and bursting in your brain like a shell. Open this door! Corinne! Corinne! Philip! Why did you come in here? Never mind that. Who were you talking to? Oh Philip, be quiet. Don't lie to me. Where is he? Philip! Tell me I heard someone in there. Where is he hiding? Oh please, Philip! Get out of my way! You step past her. The closet door is partly open. And as you walk toward it, Corinne steps to the light switch. The room goes dark. Th- Turn on that light! Here you are! I know what you're saying! There was thought! As you struggle with him in the darkness, you realize he's too powerful for you. He forces you back against the table. Your hand lights on a heavy metal bookend. In a blind rage, you swing it high. Now, you'd better turn on the lights, Corinne. Hurry up! All right, oh Philip, why did you do this? He didn't mean anything to me. Nothing at all. He came here because he found out about us. He wanted me to stay away from you. I'll get some water quickly. If no use, he's dead, Captain. Oh no. You've killed Professor Bentley, your son's best friend. What's his Alfred hot-skick? Does the name John Nico mean anything to you? Perhaps it should, and I shall tell you why. 400 years ago was all Nico was a respected scholar and diplomat. He wrote many learned articles and compiled a dictionary of the French language. Quite appropriately, his own name came to be part of most later dictionaries. Well, you see why Monsieur Nico was serving as ambassador to Lisbon. He became fascinated by a strange plant that had been brought over from the new land of America. When he returned to his own country in 1560, he took some specimens of a plant with him, and in this manner he introduced tobacco to France. Nico's countrymen began to associate his name with the smoke-producing leaves, but the older Indian word which sounded like tobacco became more common. Nico, however, was not completely left out. His name lives on in nicotine, the poisonous drug in the plant he introduced to France. So there you have the moral of my story. Beware of those who would name something after you. Should it be the wrong thing, you may find your good name poisoned. Well, Phillip, you never expected anything like this. This couldn't be happening to you. It's all so horrible, so fantastic. For weeks now, your association with Corinne Scott has seemed so completely wonderful. Now with a suddenness of the jealous rage that spurred your wild action there in the dark room, a beautiful dream has turned into a nightmare, and Professor Bentley, gentle, friendly Professor Bentley, your son David's friend, lies dead at your feet. As you stand there stunned looking down at what you've done, you're vaguely aware that Corinne has come forward and picked up the heavy bookend you use. You sink down into a chair as she moves about, straightening things up, scarcely looking at you. Slowly, you lower your hands from your face and look up at her. Corinne, Corinne, what are we going to do? You've killed him, Phillip. You've killed an instant man who did nothing more than come here to ask me to stay away from him. I know that. As soon as the light went on and I saw who it was, I knew why he was here. Oh, Corinne, Professor Bentley was such a good friend of my son, to me. What am I going to say? How can I explain? You wouldn't have to explain if you could get him out of here, Phillip. What? If he were found somewhere else, maybe miles from here. Corinne, would you help me do that? Yes, Phillip. I would. I never knew anyone could be so devoted, so much in love with a person. I'm not doing it because I love you, Phillip. What? Because I don't. I never have. Corinne, what are you talking about? I love you, Phillip. I despise you and everything you've ever stood for. Have you lost your mind? Oh, the man of stone is crumbling. What's the matter, Phillip? You're shaking. Shaking like a man in the death house. You're scared and bewildered, just like Tommy Anderson up there in the state penitentiary. Anderson? Tommy Anderson? What do you know about him? I know that he was innocent, Phillip. And so do you. I know that you put him where he is in condemned row because it made you district attorney. I don't know what you're saying, and I don't see what it has to do with you. It has everything to do with this, Phillip. Everything in the world. Because that's what Tommy Anderson means to me. What? I knew you'd be surprised. You see, Phillip, you're not the prosecutor on the case anymore. I am. You mean you, you planned this? You got the professor in there? No, not the professor. I had nothing to do with you coming here. I simply intended to involve you in a scandal, Phillip. Or rather, a threatened scandal. And then... Then I was going to give you a choice. A choice of being ruined through disgrace? Horror of telling the truth about Tommy Anderson. Right? Exactly. Now you have two alternatives, Phillip. You can either free Tommy or stand trial for murder. But it's impossible. I can't go back on what I've said about Anderson, not without... Not without admitting you produced false evidence against... I'd be thrown out of office in 24 hours. Is that worse than the grass chamber? Is that the choice you're giving me, Corinne? That's it, Phillip. You haven't long to make up your mind. The neighbors should be coming home any minute now. They might get curious if they saw a body being carried out. But don't talk of it. I... I'll do what you say, Corinne. Where's Professor Bentley's car? He said he parked in the next block. He didn't want to be seen. I'll go get it. I'll go with you. You don't have to. I'll come back. I'm sure you'll come back. Because you see, while I straightened up around here, I hid that bookend. The one with your fingerprints all over it. Not missing a bit, are you? I can't afford to. Tommy Anderson's life depends on it. Shall we go? You find the professor's car a block away. Run it into the drive alongside the duplex. Corinne helped you carry the professor's body out of the house to the car. Warned you to call her sewer, and returns to the apartment. In the next half hour, you'll live your life over, don't you, Phillip? Driving grimly through the night, not knowing exactly where you're going. Trying to stay on the darkest streets until you reach the edge of town. The university looms up ahead, the big slumbering shadow. And you decide there's no better spot than Professor Bentley's own canvas. You run the car in beneath the car, you run the car in beneath the clump of trees, turn off the motor, wipe away your fingerprints, and climb up. Some distance from the campus, you swing onto a trolley car and get off 20 minutes later and walk the few blocks to your home. Not much hope for sleep, is there, Phillip? Nothing to do but wait for the axe to fall. The minute the morning papers hit the streets. X-ray paper, X-ray university, Professor Slain. X-ray, X-ray. Police offer the theory that the killing might be a gangland reprisal against District Attorney Phillip Graham, whose home the slain professor often visited. Recent efforts by the Graham regime to rid the city of gangster domination are known to have caused threatening talk in many quarters, as City Hall spokesman said today. While Graham himself could not be reached concerning. Hello, Phil. Hello, Matt. Anything new? Wish there was. The boys have been out at 48 hours now without a rest. They're not giving up on you. You know me better than that. The day I give up, I'll resign as police commissioner. They know what the professor meant to you and your boy, Phil. We'll get the guy who did it if it takes us 20 years. Well, just a second, yeah. There's a miss Scott calling, Mr. Graham. Wait a minute. I told him you were busy. She said it's quite important. But, uh, all right, put her off. Hello, Phillip. You called at a bad time. I'm busy with the police commissioner. Go ahead, tell them I'm... I'll be brief, Phillip. I've waited two days now. That's all I intend to wait. I want a signed statement about Tommy. Uh, look, I'll have to see you first. I told you I was going to wait any longer. It had better be tonight. Uh, all right, tonight. Nine o'clock? Make it 10. All right, 10. And I wouldn't be late if I were you. Oh, no, of course. Goodbye. Appointments, favors, business as usual. What do they think I am, anyway? Tell Farnie I know, Phil. Well, I better get back and see if the boys did anything with the one lead we've got. What's that? A girl? A girl. We think the professor had a date with a girl that night. Some dame would have paid the lawyer into the trap. What do you mean, on the campus? He wasn't here alone on the campus. We knew that from the first. He was probably murdered in the girl's apartment. I see. We're checking every movie made that night. We'll find her if she's alive. What do you mean by that? Well, she's a pretty important girl. To both our side and theirs. I wouldn't be surprised to find her in the river one of these mornings. I'll see you later, Phil. And you're thinking about the girl you talked to, aren't you, Philip? Of what she told you that terrible night in her living room, that you have two alternatives, Philip. You can either flee Tommy or stand trial for murder. But there's another choice now, isn't there? Yes, it's been done before. The usual disappearance of the key witness with all the gangster trimming. They'll never question it for a moment. At five minutes of 10, you walk onto the porch of Corinne's house for the first time since the murder. You've made a terrific decision. You're going to kill her. Well, you're right on time, Philip. I'm always on time. I won't take long. I didn't quite understand what you meant this afternoon about discussing it. There's nothing to discuss. I wanted a signed affidavit that you sent Tommy Anderson up on manufactured evidence. I'll be only too happy to walk out of your life. It's very simple. It's not that simple, Corinne. I want that bookend for one thing. Naturally. What about your signed statement? There you are. I wrote it at the office this afternoon. It's all there. Oh, it certainly is. What about the bookend? Just a minute. I'm enjoying this. You know, Philip, I'd never believe you could be so frail. Where is it? It's there on the table on plain sight. You didn't hide it? Not that one. I hid the mate to it, Philip. Very conveniently, just in case you decided to steal it in a drawer under a pile of papers where I knew you'd find it. You could never tell them apart without a microscope, of course. Fingerprints are hard to see. Philip, you... Wait a minute. You can't get away with... Sorry, Corinne. It's too bad you didn't realize. There was a third choice. Graham speaking. Go on. The girl I told you about. She's more than a theory now. She's a corpse out again in her apartment this morning. Any idea who did it? We know who did it, Philip. Pretty quick work. You want me to send a car for you? Where are you? Oh, you... You have him there? That's right. For sure, Matt. Send a car. I'll be right over. Oh, let's just out for hot kick-spaking. Once upon a time, there was an Apache named Goyathle. Freely translated, this means one who yawns. Obviously, this was not a proper name for a warrior who wished to strike terror in his opponents. So Goyathle, perhaps after consulting an early-day version of an actor's agent, selected a name which he felt was more appropriate. Soon, he was the terror of the Southwest. Throughout the area, people trembled with fear when they heard the name Deronimo. Years later, of course, Goyathle's nom de guerre came into different use. American parachutists added it to the English language when they cried Deronimo as they leaped from their planes. The exact meaning of their cry is a bit obscure. Old Deronimo, by the way, did not die in battle. He retired to Reservation Life in order to work on his memoirs and join the Dutch Reformed Church. May I add, there is absolutely no truth to the stories that Deronimo entitled his awful biography. They laughed when I raided a village and then I changed my name. The idea is absurd. Well, Philip, it was a terrible moment, wasn't it? Listening to police commissioner Matthews telling you over the telephone, they knew who killed Corinne Scott, while your mind reached out frantically for some detail you might have overlooked. The bookend, the bottom of the river where I belonged, he asked David, carefully burned after you left the apartment. Fingerprints, tire tracks, witnesses, you've been too careful for that. Then the wonderful words almost made your heart stop, that they had the suspect there with them. Someone else, Philip, had made a mistake, a staggering, wonderful mistake. The homicide squad is all over the apartment when you arrive. I'm glad you got here so soon, Philip. I dropped everything, of course. Where's the suspect? In the bedroom. You know, Phil, I wish there was some mistake about this. Huh? For the first time in my life, I wish I had nothing to do with cracking a case. What are you talking about? Bring him in here, boys. Matthews, what do you mean by that? I was hoping we'd be wrong. There's just no other answer. And that guy comes walking right out of the victim's house and can't tell why. David! Hello, Dad. You won't say a word. I was waiting for my father. She called me up early last night, Dad. She said she could tell me something about what happened to Professor Bentley. I came on over and she... she told me everything. I see. It sounded crazy. I told her it was a pack of lies. After I went home last night, I couldn't sleep. That's why I came back here this morning and... What did she tell you, David? I've said all I'm gonna say. You know what that means, of course. I think so. Dad. Matt, yeah, Phil? You'd better get a stenographer. I've got a story to tell you. A story that begins with... with Tommy Anderson. And ends... right here. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman as the Whistler, Frank Nelson, Jeanette Nolan, Paul Stratton Jr., Hal Gerard, and Herbert Lytton. The Whistler was directed by George W. Allen, with story by Joel Malone, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler was entirely fictional, and all characters portrayed on the Whistler are optional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Tune in again next week at the same time for The Whistler. The Whistler has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.