 And now for the signal oil program, the Whistler. The mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because you know who's guilty. You see his every move. You know his complete plans, even his innermost thoughts. Yet the final curtain always brings a startling surprise. In the signal oil program, the Whistler. That whistle is your signal for 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. Yes, friends, it's the Whistler for the tops in entertainment. And for the tops in gasoline quality, it's signal. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And signal is the famous go farther gasoline. So look for the signal circle sign in yellow and black that identifies friendly independent signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Still dead. Even with the moonlight through the big window, the studio room seemed dark to him as he let himself in quickly and leaned back against the door. It was like moving in a nightmare somehow. Everything vague out of focus. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when it came. That soft knock on the door. He didn't even hear it at first, didn't respond until it was repeated urgently, demandingly. Then he came out of his day sufficiently to hurry across the studio to the easel by the window. Quickly he removed the painting, slipped it behind the desk. Then he turned to answer the door. The man facing him was a total stranger, but he called him by name. Leonard Miles. That's right. You're standing in the dark, Mr. Miles. Oh, well, I was just leaving. Sure. You mind if I come in? What do you want? I'd like to take a look around. Now look, it's late. My studio is closed. Do you know Anne Hamilton, Mr. Miles? Anne Hamilton? Uh, no, no, I don't. Funny, that's about the only answer I get out of this neighborhood. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Miles. I'm Lieutenant Meehan. Homicide. Homicide? You mind putting on the lights? Oh, that's better. Well, you've worked on some interesting subjects, Mr. Miles. What is it, Lieutenant? What's on your mind? Your work, Mr. Miles. Your paintings. I'd like to look at them. They're all that I've had on my mind since learning about Anne Hamilton. In case you didn't know, she's dead. You just stand there, don't you, Leonard? Facing the police, Lieutenant. Not even hearing your own voice as you tell him to go ahead and examine the canvases. You're almost not aware of him as he moves about the room. Because your mind is spinning rapidly, going over it all again, reliving each week, day and hour that you spent with Anne Hamilton, the girl he's asking about. You'd like to tell him about it. Tell him the kind of person she was, but you don't. Because they're still merry to think about. There's always been merry. Before Anne, before everything, there's always been merry. Your wife. How well you remember the day you and Mary discussed the exhibition. Feel better now? Mmm, delicious tea, Mary. Thanks so much. Oh, not at all, Connie. So good of you to pose for Leonard. Oh, I love it. He's taught me more in these past weeks than a semester of art school. You going to work any more this afternoon, Mr. Miles? Oh, Connie, that'll be all for the day. Oh, I'll be running on then. I've got a class tonight. You pay heed to this young lady, Mary. She'll graduate from that art school in a year or so and run me out of business. In a year, you'll be so famous no one will buy from anyone else. Good night, Mary. Mr. Miles. Good night, Connie. Good night, Connie. She's a wonderful girl. Yes. You know, Leonard, sometimes I wonder why you stay with me. Oh, please, Mary. No. I'm not a help to you. It's a struggle for an artist anyway, with an inward wife. Now, stop it, Mary. You help me more than you'll ever know. It's just that, well, I wish I could do more for you, take you away somewhere, but you live in the kind of place that you should. I'm happy with you, Leonard. Mary, I was offered that job again. No, Leonard. There's really nothing wrong with doing magazine illustrations, and it means money. We could try to save... It isn't what you want to do. You know that. What about the exhibit? You haven't completed your work. The exhibit isn't going to mean anything. Never has. Perhaps it will this time. Let's wait and see. I have a feeling about it, Leonard. Promise me you'll wait until after the exhibit. Please, Leonard. Yes, Leonard. Your wife, Mary, had a feeling that the art exhibit was going to make a difference. But it wasn't really different from the others before it. You still heard the same remarks as you moved about among the little group of onlookers. Then they were gone, the curious, the mocking, and the few real patrons. You're alone now, standing there, looking around at a room full of paintings, paintings that no one wanted to buy. You stare at one you were certain they would like, the girl's face with that curious light across it. Then you're startled suddenly at the sound of a girl's voice. Hello. You almost believe your mind is playing tricks, and then she speaks again. Hello. Why, hello. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought everyone had gone. Yes. I waited until they had. I liked your work, Mr. Miles. Oh? I liked it very much. I may like it well enough to buy. Well, everything you see is for sale, Miss... Hamilton. And Hamilton. Yes. Well, was there something in particular? I'd like some time to study them. Oh, the exhibit's over, but these will all be brought back to my studio. I suppose I could come over there. That is, if the transaction can be kept private. Private? I wouldn't want any talk, Mr. Miles. Well, I'm sure the male fact of you buying a picture wouldn't concern... It might concern some people. You're a very attractive man, Mr. Miles. I, uh, trust my wife finds me so. I'm sure she does. Uh, my car is across the street. I wonder if we could continue this over a cocktail. Why, uh... I know. You're expected home. Couldn't you make a call? It's business, Mr. Miles. Yes, I can call. I'll do it right away. Look, Miss Hamilton, about the paintings... You said you'd call me Anne. All right, Anne. What about the... The paintings. Yes. Is it the girl, the one I was looking at when you... No. No, Leonard. I wouldn't want that. Someone else posed for you. No. Leonard, I, um... I want you to paint me. Oh? Will you do it? Naturally. Portrait painting is my business. Good. But I should warn you. I'm going to want something unusual. I'd like a painting of myself just as I am, Leonard. No pretty lights or shadows. No painting out the line. That should be easy. And there aren't any lines. You noticed, didn't you? You've noticed a lot about me. Yes, of course. I make a habit of studying subjects. You're perfect for what I want, Leonard. Um... You'll paint me exactly as I am. Well, I'll try, Anne. And it isn't such an unusual request. No. Leonard. Someone once told me that that I should be painted killing someone or something. You don't believe that, do you? Well, I don't know, Anne. Put your painting. Well, yes. Just as I am. We'll work together until it's exactly like me. Yes, Anne. Until it's exactly like you. With the prologue of still death, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange story by the Whistler. But now two announcements of unusual importance to all contract bridge players. One, the first changes in the rules of contract bridge since 1941 were just made on the first of this month at the Culbertson Teachers' Convention. And two, a copy of all these new bridge rules is already waiting for you at your nearest Signal service station. Yes, that's right. The only new developments in bridge in the last seven years have now been boiled down into convenient, easy-to-understand form by Signal's own bridge expert, Robert Lee Johnson. These are completely separate from the six lessons in contract bridge now being distributed by Signal dealers. So whether you're collecting these Signal bridge lessons or not, if you play contract bridge at all, you'll want this handy summary of the new rules in contract bridge. Naturally, it's yours for the asking. And the place to ask for it is at your friendly neighborhood Signal dealer. Friends, before returning to the Whistler, here is an important announcement for Whistler fans in California only. Next Wednesday, the Whistler will be heard in California one hour later at 8.30 p.m. Remember, this is in California only. And now back to the Whistler. It was like a nightmare, wasn't it, Leonard? From the moment you met Anne Hamilton there in the empty art gallery, the way she seemed to step out of the shadows into your light. From the first, there was something that told you to stay away from her, to turn and run, but you didn't. And the following evening, you made excuses to marry, left her in the apartment, walked down the long corridor and across the patio to the room that served as your studio. Stood in the half darkness smoking a cigarette while you waited. Your call at all off is there again for an instant, isn't it, Leonard? And then it's all swept away and you're over the brink as you find yourself with Anne. Oh, Leonard, it's just as I thought it would be your studio. It's as if I'd been here many times before. Leonard. Yes? Did your wife like to come here? Unfortunately, my wife can't come here. She's an invalid. She was in an accident. She didn't come here all the time before she was hurt, but she's still very interested in my work. So am I. Can we start our painting tonight? Well, Anne, you wanted to come here to see the studio, but I wouldn't recommend working this way. At night, I mean, the light's all wrong. You'd rather I came in the daytime? And I don't get all this secrecy. There's no reason that you shouldn't come here any time. I'm a professional artist and many women have their portraits... You see, I want this painting to be a surprise. Oh. If anyone knew I was seeing you, it might get into the paper. The paper? You don't understand, do you? But then I don't think you're really trying to. Oh, nothing to worry about. I'm not front-page copy. But I am a society column item. Look, Anne, now that you've seen the place. You're nervous, I don't. I make you nervous. Well... I don't want to rush things, Leonard. I don't ever want you to do anything with me that you don't want to do. Oh, you left arm a little, will you? Like this? No, a little more. No, that's it. Why don't you let me talk? Not while you're posing. But, Leonard, I want to talk. Please, Anne, I can't concentrate on what I'm doing. Do I affect you that way? I want to. Please. Can I see what you've done? Well, when I'm finished, I want you to get the total effect. Oh. Well, I want to see you. Dinner tonight? I can't make it tonight. Oh, but you must. It's about someone I know. A woman who wants a portrait of her daughter. Oh, can't you see me here? No. No, I want to talk to you about it. Tell you what to say. Please. All right, Anne, tonight then. Dinner. Why are you stopping? And this whole thing has to stop somewhere. I want to talk to you. I know. It's about Mary. Yes, it is. I was hoping you meant that everything is over between you two. And you've told her. That isn't what I mean. I've been giving it a lot of thought. You know, it isn't going to be easy, Leonard. Sir, divorce. Being an invalid will put the sympathy of the court on Mary's side. And... But we'll work it out, won't we, darling? I don't know. A man just can't... You want us to be together, don't you? Well, when I'm with you, I do. But, Anne, I've got to have time to think. Certainly, dear. I love you. You know that. But I don't want to wait forever. And I know you don't either. Anne, if there was no one else to consider if Mary wasn't... Kiss me, darling. It's going to be all right. Connie, what are you doing in the studio? I just wanted to say hello this morning. Well, I'm sorry, Connie, but this work I'm doing is... Oh, I've peaked under the cover. You what? You haven't finished the face. Is she very beautiful? I didn't want anybody to see it. Connie, you had no right. No. I suppose not. But it made me think of something. How beautiful Mary is. Even now. Thank you, Connie. Mary? Mary, you shouldn't be standing. I wanted to surprise you, Leonard. I walked part of the way. Look. Darling, you'll fall. Here. Bring the wheelchair, Connie. I'm sorry, Leonard. I tried anyway. Here now. Easy now. Thanks, darling. Oh, Mary. I'll get it, Mr. Miles. No, Connie. I'll get it. Take Mary back to the apartment. Will you please? Whatever you say. Hello. Hello, darling. I can't talk to you now. Never mind. You needn't come here today. It's all finished. Everything. It's over. I know for the first time in weeks. I'm sure now. Tonight at my home, you know the address. And I'm not going... Now, what is it, Anne? I told you I didn't want to come here. Please, darling. Don't be upset. Come along. I want you to meet someone. In here. What's that? I'll put on the light. There. And now let me introduce you to the man who has given me everything money can buy. My dear devoted husband. Your husband? Now you know why I couldn't be seen with you. And he's in pain. Yes, poor darling. He had a stroke just last month. But he won't suffer long. You've talked like this in front of him? He can hear me. Yes. But he can't speak or move. I'm going to do something, Anne. I'm going to call a doctor. Don't bother. He has the best doctors. He'll be back in a little while. Besides, darling, you wouldn't want Mary to know about us, would you? She's an invalid, too, in the shock... No. No, I never want Mary to know about us. All right, Anne. What do you want from me? I want you to finish that painting. It was my husband here who suggested I should be painted, killing something. I see. That's what you were. That's a journey to the library, shall we? Good night, dear. You are going to paint me now, aren't you? Yes, Anne. I'm going to paint you now. My arm, it goes! Sit down! Now, give me that purse. I'll paint you now. Now! Lots of it smeared on both cheeks. A little purple for the eyelids. Lots of purple. And red, deep blood red for the lips. A straight red gash. This is the painting for you. Come on! Look at yourself in the mirror. Take a good look. Do it this way. I'll still be at your studio tomorrow. You can finish it. And then I'll finish with you. You wait anxiously all the next day. Near evening you go to the uncompleted painting. Stare at it. Suddenly take a brush and start to work. Slowly at first. And then rapidly until you complete it. Yes. This is Anne, isn't it? The way you see her. Then as you set aside your brush, you're aware of her presence. Beautiful, Leonard. It's the way you are, Anne. Hi Anne, you're hurt. Yes, I've been shot. Shot? Funny. Very funny. I didn't think it would be this way. Told you I'd finish this for a clinic. And I will. Police arrived. They find me here. Dying in your arm. The whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending to tonight's story. Meantime, a special word to you folks who did some traveling throughout the Pacific Coast states this summer. In addition to interesting scenery, you no doubt noticed two other things. One, that wherever you drove, you found friendly signal dealers. And two, that from Canada to Mexico, signal gasoline is known as the go farther gasoline. Now naturally, we're plenty proud of signals good mileage. But even more so, we're proud of what makes that mileage possible. I'm talking about the extra efficiency. Today's signal gasoline coaxes from your motor, which naturally means more thrilling pickup, more silent responsive power for your car. Extra performance, you see, goes hand in hand with mileage. The very thing signal gasoline is famous for. That's why we say, to be sure of the tops in gasoline quality, there are just two things to remember. One, it takes extra quality to go farther. And two, signal is the famous go farther gasoline. And now back to the whistler. If the terrible moment isn't in the plan, the climax of a nightmare, as you hold the dying Anne Hamilton in your arms, a thousand confused thoughts crowd into your mind, you can't understand what's happened. Anne, Anne, who did this? Who shot? Where did you get that gun? I guess my husband wasn't. He was as much of an influence as I thought. Your husband? Yes, I shot him. And then when I put the gun in his hands, make it look like suicide, he shot me. Oh, no, Anne. And I thought the suicide angle wouldn't work. I brought the gun up here to pin the whole thing on you, darling. Quickly, you pick her up, carry her down the back way, and then bring her car around. Moments later, you're racing toward the nearest hospital. Anne slumped in the seat beside you, continues to mumble incoherently. Then she's silent. On a darkened side street, you stop the car, walk around the corner to a drugstore, and slip into a phone booth. There's a blue convertible parked on Shell Street of Kelton. You'll find a woman in the front seat. She's dead. 10 minutes later, you're back at the studio, alone, exhausted, leaning weakly against the door. You're in the clear now, aren't you, Leonard? Certain the police won't be able to connect you with the deaths of Anne Hamilton and her husband. And most important, your wife, Mary, will never know about Anne. Yes, that's the most important thing in your life. Mary, her happiness now and always. For a long while, you stood there in the dark studio. Then the knock came, the soft knock on the door that brought Lieutenant Meehan of homicide. The quiet questions about Anne that sent your mind spinning. As you watched the Lieutenant move about the studio, examining each can. We traced her to this building. Officer Farrell gave her a ticket earlier this evening for going through a red light. Her car was weaving, so he followed her here. Then when he heard over the police radio that you were looking for Anne Hamilton, he called us. You were looking for her? Yeah. You see, she called headquarters an hour or so ago. Said someone had killed her husband. Said she thought the killer might be a man who had been painting her portrait. Didn't say who he was. But then when she came to this building, well, you're the only artist around here. You see what I mean? I don't know any Anne Hamilton, Lieutenant. Mm-hmm. So you said before. Have you finished looking around, Lieutenant? Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Nice pictures. Well, thanks, I'll be on my way. What's the matter? I, uh, almost overlooked one of your paintings, Mr. Miles. This one behind the desk. Interesting work. You like it? I said it was interesting. You know, Miles, it's lucky for you I didn't find a portrait of Anne Hamilton here. Ha-ha. I never can't figure out you guys. Now take this canvas. You paint a beautiful dame with a figure like that. Then instead of a face, you top it off with a jet shed. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Friends, let me repeat. Here is an important announcement for Whistler fans in California only. Next Wednesday, the Whistler will be heard in California one hour later at 8.30. Remember, this is California only. The Whistler is brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine quality automotive accessories. Signal has asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speeds, be courteous and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were William Conrad and Lorette Philbrand. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen with story by Gilbert Thomas and music by Wilbur Hatch and admitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. Remember, at the same time next Wednesday another strange tale by the Whistler. Marvin Miller speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.