 And now stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who's 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. 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 for the Signal Oil company, the Whistler's strange story. Blue alibi. John Sheridan knew exactly what to expect as he brought his car to a stop in front of his New England beach home. For the brightly lighted house, the cars parked carelessly along the driveway meant just one thing. His wife, Edith, had again invited a group of his friends over to spend the evening. As John entered the house, the music, the gay laughter, the hum of idle chatter, suddenly became more than he could bear. Unobserved, or so he thought, he slipped into the hall, hurried to the den and shut the door. But his escape was only momentary. Almost immediately, the door opened again. Hello, Edith. John, why do you insist on being deliberately offensive to our guests? Well, your guests, not mine, I didn't invite them. But I did because of you. That again? Yes, that again. You may be satisfied with your salary as city treasurer and chairman of the Board of Public Works, but... We get along, I'm satisfied. But I'm not. These people are important politically. They could help you, John. You could be governor in a few years. Listen, Edith. Right now, keeping up my work is more important than making new political contacts. I have a lot of construction contracts to go over. I planned to work on them here tonight and have them ready by morning, but now... Well, your noisy friends make it impossible. Where are you going? Down to the guest cottage, where I can work in peace and quiet. You leave the house, walk slowly down to the cottage near the beach. Please, with the way you've handled Edith. You lied about the work you have to do, didn't you, John? That was just an excuse to get away from the house without arousing your suspicion. Sometime later, a light tap at the cottage door tells you that your expected visitor has arrived. Hello, Frank. Come on in. Party going on up at your place? Yes, some of Edith's friends. Any chance of them dropping in on us? No. Well, I still don't see why we couldn't have met at my place like this. That's too risky. If we're smart, Frank, we'll arrange to meet at a different place each time from now on. Yeah, maybe you're right. Oh, that's a nice little spot you've got here, Sheridan. Just a guest house. Either this idea. Oh, what's this stuff? The wife of Sculptress? No. Well, that's some of my work. Oh, just a hobby. You've been pulling around with play modeling since I was a kid. Huh? Well, sit down, Frank. Get you a drink? Oh, thanks. Don't have time. You, um... You have the money? Yep. There you are. You're cut for the library building job. $5,000. Good. Now, how about that bridge contract? The final bids will be in Friday. I'll go over them all before the board meets. You can tip your contractor off. Mm-hmm. Uh, who is it this time? Greenwood. I'll Greenwood. Okay, the job's his. I'll, uh, get the usual cut. As soon as the contract's signed. Good. That'll be in a couple of weeks. It's as simple as that, isn't it, John? You arrange it so that a few of Frank Devon's hand-picked contractors get most of the city construction jobs. And Frank's payoff is big and quick. After he leaves, you smile. Open the package you left and stuff the $5,000 into your wallet. But that smile freezes when suddenly you hear footsteps. You slip the wallet into your pocket just as the door opens. Edith. What are you doing here? I guess I'm so overwhelmed with your graciousness. You left early. So I decided to go for a swim. John, how long have you and Frank Devon been mixed up in this crooked deal? What? Sorry, I couldn't help it over here. Coming down the back way when I heard voices. Let's see. John, you must be out of your mind. With a great career ahead of you, you get yourself involved with a gambling racketeer like Frank Devon who has managed to link himself with a few shady contractors. How much has he given you? About $25,000. You're going to give it back. Every penny. I can't. Only got about $15,000 left. I'll make up the other 10. How generous. Loosening up the purse strings at last, are you? John, you've got to break with Devon tomorrow, completely, permanently. It's not as simple as... If you don't, I'll go to the district attorney and tell him everything I know. That'll involve me. That's right, John. I've worked hard to make you a success and you can still be a success... Success! That's all you think about. I'm married just in the marriage to you anymore. It's just... You're right. But you're the cause of it. I'm not a blind fool, you know? But what do you mean? You know what I mean. Ann Allison, your secretary. And that's nothing else, John. You got to discharge her and break with her as well as Devon. I'm tired of having my friends laugh at me behind my back. Now look, either... I mean what I say, John. If you haven't told Frank Devon you're through and said your little farewells to Ann Allison by tomorrow night, I'll go to the district attorney, tell him everything and take your choice. How would you like to win a Buick Super in the dashing new Riviera model or the famous Apex three-piece automatic laundry, washer, dryer, and ironer? Or one of two O'Keith and Merritt deluxe gas ranges with vanishing shelf and grill-o-vator broiler? 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You haven't much choice, have you, John? You're certain your wife Edith meant it when she said she'd expose your illegal adventures with a racketeering and politically powerful Frank Devon. Unless you broke off with him immediately. You don't want to give up all that easy money, do you? Not when Edith holds on to hers the way she does. But she's too strong for you and you certainly don't want to go to jail, do you? If you can just persuade Devon to play at Edith's way for a while, give you some time to kill her suspicions. You'll resume your profitable associations with him later. The following evening you phone him, arrange to meet him in the office of a mutual friend. Come on in, Sheridan. Hello, Frank. That's so important you couldn't tell me over the phone. Well, I'm in sort of a jam. I think I'm going to lay off for a while. My wife found out about our arrangement. She was outside the beach cottage last night and heard everything we said. I should have had more sense than to meet you there in the first place. Okay, so your wife knows that she'll keep her mouth shut. She won't. She'll have to. You think I'm going to sink 25 grand into this deal and then kiss it off just like that? No, no, I don't expect that, Frank. I've got the 25,000 right here. Cash. Just like you gave it to me. Keep it. You can understand. She'll go to the DA, she'll tell him everything. That would involve you too. She knows that. Well, he's really nuts about you, isn't she? Not that. Well, if she thinks that I'm going to let my number one boy at City Hall go, she's off her whirl. You're going to go right on handing out jobs the way I tell you. Understand? I'll put that money back in your pocket and go home and make your wife behave. Frank, listen to me. You listen to me. Greenwood gets that bridge construction just like we planned. And if the DA starts getting nosy all of a sudden, well, that's okay too. You won't have to worry about your wife anymore. Listen to me. She'll be a widow. You're certainly means what he says, aren't you, John? Certain that Frank Devon won't hesitate to take any action he feels necessary to keep you in line or quiet. And you know that with his connections he could arrange things very easily. Your only hope now is to prevent Edith from going to the District Attorney, at least until you can figure some way to handle Frank. You've got to have time to think things out. You return to your home and find Edith in the library. You try and explain to her how impossible it is for you to, well, to simply tell Devon that you're through. He explained to her that above everything he's a racketeer with a powerful organization. That even her life might be in jeopardy. Assure her that you'll break with Devon if she'll just give you a little time. Finally, she agrees to give you until the end of the week. For the next few days, you'll think of one scheme after the other and reject each as impractical. Then one afternoon, Edith drops unexpectedly into your office. Her first words fall on your ears like a bombshell. Hello, John. I thought you'd be glad to know I've taken care of your break with Frank Devon. You... you what? I sent him back all the money he's given you by a special messenger this morning. With a note explaining exactly what will happen to him if he doesn't let you alone. It'll convince him, John. I'm sure. After Edith leaves, you begin to realize that her action was a smart move. Her note to Devon places him on a spot as tight as your own. But you're still quite nervous and spend the remainder of the day in your office waiting for some word from Devon, but nothing comes. Finally, as night settles over the city, you hurry out of the office to the parking lot. Slide into your car. As you do, your hand suddenly frees on the wheel, pressing at the back of your head is the cold, unmistakable feel of an automatic. Don't turn around, pal. Who are you? What do you want? Name's Nick. Mr. Devon told me I should have a little talk with you. Devon? That's right. First of all, I had 25 grand your wife sent to him this morning. He told me to deposit it in your bank to your credit. That I did this afternoon. You what? No, no, that... That could be a little embarrassing to you, couldn't it? Now, about that letter, your wife's note says that you wrote the DA, the one that's going to be sent to him if anything happens to you. Telling him all about you and Mr. Devon, the you. That's nothing about that. I've written it. Oh, gag. Won't work, John. Anything happens to me. Look, all I gotta do is press this trigger. No! And it's all over. Just like that. You know where Mr. Devon's is right now? 200 miles away, with a perfect developer. So how's the DA gonna pin anything on Mr. Devon, huh? Well, you still know the details of the contract record, huh? And Mr. Devon ain't gotta think to deal with that record. Only you and the contractors. Mr. Devon was pretty smart to handle it that way right from the start. And speaking of contracts, about that bridge job coming up. What about it? Is Al Greenwood gonna get that bridge contract? Yes. You'll get it. And your wife? She's gonna keep quiet. Yes, she'll keep quiet. She'll have to. A half hour later you arrive at your house, still somewhat shaken from your encounter with Devon's trigger man in the parking lot. You can't break off with Devon, can you? You're certain of that now. And the more you think about it, the more bitter you become toward Edith. You really don't want to sever your connections with Devon anyway, do you? Not with all that easy money rolling in. Another year or two with him and you won't need a political career. Edith! Edith, are you home? Good evening, Mr. Sheridan. Oh, hello, Kitty. Is Mrs. Sheridan the boss? She's gone for a swim, sir. Oh, I see. All right, thanks. Uh, Mr. Sheridan, I know it's not any of my business, sir. What is it, Kitty? Well, it's about Mrs. Sheridan, sir. Going swimming like that every evening and alone, too. There's never a soul along the beach that time of night. I don't think it's safe. I've never thought much about it. He's really quite a good swimmer. Been plenty of good swimmers around, you know. Cramps and all. And that undertow I hear it's pretty bad. Well, I'll speak to her about it. Thoughtful of you to mention it, Kitty. Thank you. Thank you very much. Yes, John, as Katie says, if something should happen to Edith, you could go right ahead with Devon, couldn't you? And you're tired of Edith's sufficient management of your life. As Katie suggested, Edith could drown, couldn't she, John, in an accident, and no one would suspect. Yes, but it won't be a simple matter to arrange. Edith's a good swimmer, and you wouldn't stand a chance of fighting her in the way. Then your eyes fall on the small clay figure you've modeled, Gunwah's water bearer, and the flicker of an idea stirs in your brain. You pick it up, stare at it for a moment, and then your gaze wanders to the half-open bathroom door, the tub beyond, the empty aluminum bucket in the corner. The bucket, John. Yes. Now you know exactly how you're going to do it, don't you? Edith will drown, but at the guest cottage, not at the beach, and even the autopsy will help put you in the clear. Good night, John. Oh, Edith. Yes, yes, I had some work to do at the office. How was the water? Cold. Any word from Devon today? No, no, not a word. Good. Then it's over, isn't it, John? Yes, he did die. I guess it's all over. It isn't really over, is it, John? Not quite, but it will be tomorrow night. You'll have to have an alibi, too. Not an elaborate one, not perfect, the kind that causes suspicion. Yes, a simple alibi, John. One to make your actions and explanations seem perfectly natural. As you replace the small clay figure on your desk, it suddenly occurs to you. The alibi to account for every moment of your time. Your old hobby, clay modeling. Early the following evening, over after dinner coffee, you set your plan and emotions. Edith seems surprised when you tell her you're going to take up your hobby again. A little puzzle, too. But she does seem pleased. It'll mean more work for you, Katie. I don't mind them. It'll seem quite like old times again, Mr. Sheridan making them little statues. I've wondered. Well, anyway, I'm glad, John. I wondered what he was carrying in that package under his arm when he came home. Well, I happened to drive in the Galloway's Art Shop today, and we got to talking, and the next thing I knew, I bought a stock of supplies. Well, if you'll excuse me, Edith, I think I'll go down to the guest cottage to get started. I used to get a big kick out of this. I don't blame you, John. You have real talent. What's the subject going to be? I haven't quite decided yet. Why don't you look in on me after your swim? You really want me to? Yes, why not? All right, John. I will. Fine. Oh, and Katie, if anyone calls, I don't want to be disturbed. I understand, sir. Once at the cottage, you spend several minutes making certain that everything you need is at hand. And now the most important step of all, you smile as you cross the workbench, pick up a soft, blue-tinted clay and begin to shape your alibi. The clever touch, this, isn't it, John? And you're amused, quite pleased with yourself as your fingers dig into the clay. It's almost 10 o'clock now. Edith will be returning from the beach soon. Your fingers move swiftly, expertly, molding the small figure of a bird on the stand before you. You must have it all finished tonight, John. You're alibi. Occasionally, you look out the window down the path to the beach. And finally, you see Edith emerge from the water. Now, John. Now is the time to call Katie up at the house. Make certain she's kept busy there during the next 15 minutes. All the time you need. 15 important minutes. You dial the main house. Sheridan? Katie, I'm famished. How about fixing me some coffee and sandwiches, huh? Oh, that'll be fine. Well, Edith, enjoy your swim. Even more than usual, I think. Good. I just called Katie to make some sandwiches for us. Oh, that'd be nice. Well, how do you like it? All this is splendid, John. I'm calling it the blue heron. I think it's the best you've ever done, really. Oh, thanks. Here. You look at it from this angle. Oh, yes. Yes, excellent. Her back is to you now, and you move quickly. Pin her arms to her side. John, what are you doing? It's over in a matter of minutes, isn't it, John? You carry Edith's body across the deserted beach to the end of the pier and proper into the sea. Then you hurry up the path to the cottage. As you reach the crest of the hill, you see Katie step out of the main house and start down the path. You leap into the brush. Make your way quickly through the shadows to the cottage and step inside. When Katie arrives, you're standing at the work table, your fingers moving over the blue heron. Ah, there you are, Katie. Isn't she carried him back from her swim yet? Oh, isn't she at the house? No, sir. Well, perhaps she's on her way up now. Did you notice anyone? Just a minute came down, sir. Didn't see a soul on the path. Oh, well, don't worry. She'll be along. Yes, sir. Oh, my, you have been working. What sort of a bird is that, sir? Heron. You like it? It is pretty, sir. Real pretty. Thank you. About Mrs. Sheridan, sir, it kind of worries me. You're very considerate, Katie, but don't worry. You go on back to the house. I'll be up late. Yes, sir. Good night. You wait another hour, then call the house. Ask Katie if Edith has returned. When she tells you Edith hasn't come back yet, you show concern. A minute later, Katie joins you and goes with you to the beach. Where you play the role of the worried husband. Finally, the two of you return to the house. Call the police. Give them the details of Edith's disappearance. Early the following morning, you're at the guest cottage when Katie ushers in chief of police Thompson. Oh, Mrs. Sheridan. Harry, you found her. Yes, about an hour ago. The tide carried her body about a half a mile down the beach. I'm sorry, John. Edith. Drowned? No, no, I can't believe it. That is hard to believe. She must have been seized with cramps, unless perhaps her heart... No, no, her heart was fine. Well, if anything was wrong, the autopsy will show it. I'll phone you the results. I'd appreciate it, Harry. I won't keep any longer, John. I know this has been hard on you. Thanks. Thanks, Harry. You've been very kind. After police chief Thompson leaves, you breathe a sigh of relief. You're sure he doesn't suspect a thing. Nevertheless, you'll be glad when the autopsy is over and the case is officially closed. When the chief hasn't called after a couple of hours, you begin to grow restless and pace the floor. And finally... Hello? John? Oh, yes, Harry. It looks like we were right. The autopsy shows your wife probably drowned as a result of cramps. No marks on the body. Sea water in her lungs. Sorry, John. If there's anything I can do... No, no, no. Thanks, Harry. You've been more than considerate. I'll be all right. Perfectly all right. Have you been wishing for a television set? Win today's most wanted set, the giant 16-inch Packard Bell Telecaster console that turns at fingertip touch to most convenient viewing angle. This and five other Packard Bell television sets with latest type black picture tube will be given in signal's big $10,000 contest that includes 200 valuable prizes, such as Frigidaire's deluxe refrigerator with new cold wall cooling, Frigidaire Electric Range, Frigidaire Home Freezer, 10 Westinghouse vacuum cleaners, plus 50 Westinghouse pop-up toasters. All these and dozens of other valuable prizes to be given for just writing in 25 words or fewer what you think the angry bride on the signal gasoline billboard is saying to her tardy out-of-gas groom. For instance, she might be saying, you're too late. I married the best man. He got here on time with signal go farther gasoline. Winners will be selected on the basis of originality and humor, aptness and suitability in advertising signal products. Your chances of winning are good because only entries mailed on official entry blanks from the six signal states. California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada and Arizona are eligible to win. So stop by your nearest signal service station tonight or tomorrow sure for a free entry blank. It contains helpful suggestions that make it even easier for you to win. Well, John, it's over, isn't it? Your wife, Edith, is dead. An accidental drowning. And no one suspects that you had anything to do with it. The police have come and gone. They've accepted your story. And now the autopsy proved Edith's death was caused by drowning. You're certain you're in the clear. Yes, you're free to continue with Frank Devon, free of Edith, the way that she was running your life. During the remainder of the day, you play the role of the grief-stricken husband except the condolences of your friend. And then early that evening you have another caller, chief of police, Thompson. Back again, Harry? Sometimes I'm pretty hard to get rid of, John. Oh, sit down. What's on your mind? Just a couple more questions. You say you were at the guest cottage last night between the hours of 8 and 11. Yes, that's right. You didn't leave the cottage at all? No, no, I was in the cottage all evening, working. My hobby, you know. Well, you saw. Yeah, I saw it. It's a bluer hair and I think you called it. John, you didn't happen to take a bath at the guest cottage last night, did you? A bath? I know. Well, I'm afraid that's interested. You drowned your wife in that cottage, Sheridan. That's absurd. What reason would I have? Well, every reason. Your lawyer gave us a letter he had written to the DA exposing your activities with Frank Devon. Your wife gave it to him and told him to turn it over to us if anything happened either of you. Devon's being picked up right now. Sure, sure, I wrote that letter. Devon was threatening us, but that doesn't prove I killed Edith. You said yourself the autopsy showed seawater in both lungs? David, that autopsy showed us a lot of things. Your wife was drowned in seawater, all right, but she wasn't drowned in the sea. Now, wait a minute, Harry, you're not making sense. Oh, yes, I am. You were pretty smart to fill that bathtub at your guest cottage with seawater before you drowned your wife in a Sheridan. You almost fooled her. I don't know what you're talking about. You forgot about the microscopic analysis, Sheridan. You see, that seawater in your wife's lungs also contained hundreds of particles of clay. So does the bathtub. Blue modeling clay. The same blue clay you bought at Galloway's shop yesterday. Harry, I didn't... There's only one way that clay could have gotten into your wife's lungs. It washed off your hands while you were holding her under the water. Let that whistle be your signal each Sunday for the Signal Oil program, The Whistler. And this week, be sure to enter Signal's big $10,000 contest. 200 valuable prizes include a new Buick, Apex Automatic Laundry, Frigidaire Refrigerator, Electric Range or Home Freezer, Packard Bell Television Set, O'Keefe and Merritt Gas Range, and many others. Just ask at your nearest Signal service station for an official entry blank. It's free. No purchase required. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Willard Waterman, Mary Lansing, and William Conrad. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Nancy Cleveland, 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. Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.