 The signal oil program, the whistler at 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. Dear friends, it's time for the whistler, rated by independent research the most popular West Coast program in radio history. And remember, let every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline you do go farther than ever. Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations in seven western states from Canada to Mexico. Now the whistler's strange story, the Waterford case. Like all murders, it had a vague intangible beginning. As Elaine walked home from the trial that afternoon, she tried to put her finger on it, ran back in her mind over the months that saw it develop from a stray thought into the headlines in the afternoon editions just hitting the stands. Son, guilty of father's murder, Richard Waterford, Jr. to die in chair, Waterford heir guilty. And for the life of her, she couldn't remember exactly when the idea was actually born. Certainly that day at the beach club with Dick and Margaret had little to do with it. Although it was in her mind even then, as she walked toward them wondering what they were saying. Oh, that water's cold. Dick, you're all wet. Tom, the people are looking. Let him. I love you, Margaret Winters. Well, is that bad? No. No, it's too good to be true. I mustn't worry about Waterford, Sr. That's not as tough as his growl. He'd do more than growl if he could see you now. You know, I used to be the fair-haired boy. Only child, son and heir, et cetera, et cetera. Little Richard could do no wrong. Then I came along. Oh, no. Nothing as uncomplicated as that. Whatever's happened between Dad and me began long before I met you. What did happen, Dick? She did, mostly. Who? Elaine? Yeah. Cousin Elaine. She's around here today. You'll probably... Hello, Richard. Elaine. Why, hello. Nice of you to drop in. We were just talking about you. Say, that's a funny thing, Elaine. You always managed to show up... Don't forget your manners, Richard. What? Oh. Oh, sorry. Meg, this is my cousin, Elaine. Hello, Elaine. I was most anxious to meet you, Miss Winters. Richard has spoken of you so often at home. How did you know you'd find us here, Elaine? I thought I'd camouflage that trail pretty well. Really, Richard. I hope you don't think I'd been following you. The fact is, I was on the boat this morning, and I decided to take a stroll along the beach before going home. I saw you from the boardwalk. You should have Richard take you out to the boat sometime, Miss Winters. Very pleasant, and much more secluded. Well, I'd love it, but I'm allergic to deep water. Can't swim a stroke. Oh. Well, I've enjoyed meeting you, Miss Winters. Likewise. Oh, what a beautiful ring. Thank you. Family heirloom, I suppose. Well, it may be someday, I hope. At the moment, it's just an engagement ring. Oh. Wish us luck, Elaine. I'll see you at home, Richard. Long, Elaine. Wow. Well, that did it. What do you mean? Oh, she'll go straight to dad. I know it. Oh, it doesn't matter, darling. Sooner there's an understanding, the sooner you and I can set up housekeeping. And this is as good a time as any. That wasn't the beginning, was it? The feeling has always been there through all the years you've spent with Dick and his father in that great gloomy tomb of a house. The years spent in a careful campaign of subtleties, half truths, outright lies. So that now the affection between father and son has cooled into a kind of forced cordiality. There are lots of possibilities in the situation, aren't there, Elaine? Now that you have the kind of ammunition you've been looking for... Stop prowling around the room and sit down, Elaine. Dick will be here directly. Uncle Richard, how can you let that Winters' girl and her father do everything you've worked for all your life? Why are you so worried? You'd lose nothing either way. I'm a Waterford. Your brother was my father. He worked himself to death making your millions for you. Do you think I want them to go to her? Your father was stupid, but he was talented. I was sorry to lose him. He hadn't been for his brain to be penniless, and you know it. Yes, and I suppose my gratitude should take the form of a handsome bequest to his daughter. Or perhaps you feel that the entire Waterford estate should rightfully belong to you. Averus is a good thing, Elaine, but only when you know how to hide it. I don't know what you're talking about. Who rang, sir? Tell Mr. Richard I want to see him at once. At once, sir. What are you going to do? Bought her an engagement ring, has he? They wanted me to be the first to know. Wanted my blessing. I hope you wish them every happiness. What are you going to do? Dishon him. What? You like that, wouldn't you, Elaine? My only other living relative. If I disowned my own son... You probably will the money to a cat husband. Good idea, girl. I'd never have thought of it. Come in. Evening, Dad. I'm glad you... Oh, hello, Elaine. You're looking nice and sleek this evening. How does it taste? How does what taste? The canary you've just swallowed. Sit down, Richard. I'll be in my room if you want me. Stick around, Elaine. You'll hear better on this side of the door. Keep a civil tongue in your head, Richard. All right, Elaine. I'll call you if I want you. You leave the library door ajar. Walk up the stairway to the landing and stand there. Listening to the voices of Dick and his father, growing louder and angrier. Watching Simpson, the butler, walk across the hall and stop to listen too. A vague shadowy picture is beginning to form in your mind. A picture clouded over with hatred for the old man. Something about a court of law, with Simpson telling the jury what he heard tonight. You're deliberately disregarding my wishes, knowing how I felt about this affair of yours. It isn't an affair, Dad. You irresponsible young fool. I spent twice the years of your lifetime building the organization that you're heir to. And the man you were to make your father in law is still trying to tear it down. He could never take over from me, so he thinks he'll do it through my son. Don't say that. Richard, this is my final word. You're not to see this woman again. You understand? Dad, I'd like... You disobey me and continue your relations with her? And I tell you this. I am in a position now to ruin that larceness father of hers and his whole miserable brood. I can buy him out, lock, stock, and barrel. Send him back to writing market figures on a blackboard. It's where he belongs anyway. And I'll do it, Richard, if you persist in this foolishness. I didn't bring up my son to see him throw my life's work away on a cheap... Shut up! All right, Richard. You may go now. When you're quite ready to talk sense, you can come back and remember what I said. All right, Dad. I'm moving out tonight to the club. But there's one thing I want you to remember. I love Megan. We're going to be married. And if you do anything to bring a single moment's unhappiness to that girl, I swear I'll kill you! With the prologue of the Waterford case, the Signal Oil Company brings you another strange tale by the Whistler. Keeps motor six times cleaner. Reduces cylinder wear one-third. Keeps motor six times cleaner. Reduces cylinder wear one-third. 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See with your own eyes why, whether you're breaking in a new car or just want to pep up your old car, today's finest oil for you is new Signal premium motor oil. And now, back to the Whistler. You come about gradually. The jealousy was always there, of course, in the awful nagging desire for the money that was Richard's. The money you felt was rightfully yours. But if there was any point at which the thing changed from a vague feeling into a concrete plan of action, it was at this exact moment, as you stood on the landing, your knuckles white on the banister, listening to Dick shouting... If you do anything to bring a single moment's unhappiness to that girl, I swear I'll kill you! Simpson hurries away, and Dick comes out of the library like a dark cloud, grabs his hat, stomps out of the house. Come in here. Right on the desk. I want you to take a wire to McCormick in the San Francisco office. Ready? Yes. Reopen investigation, possibly obtained controlling interest, John Widders Corporation. Do not use what if at name. Advise soonest. Is that all? Yes, send it. You think that'll stop the marriage? Widders is in Europe. They won't marry until he returns, and by that time I'll have him over a barrel. I can see old John Widders letting his daughter marry the son of the man who ruined him. Well, Elaine, your mind is made up now, isn't it? There's no hope that the old man will disinherit his son for defying him. He was one jump ahead of you, wasn't he? The inheritance is slipping out of reach, Elaine, unless you do something about it and quickly. Perhaps a visit with Dick at his club. It's open. Good morning, Richard. Well, I didn't expect to see you so soon after last night. I brought you your shaving things. Thanks. What do you want, Elaine? You didn't come here just to make sure I wouldn't grow a beard. You are a bore, Richard. He wants to see you. Dad? Yes. Wants to see me? Yes, Dad. He wants you to come to the house tonight at around nine o'clock. Oh, what is this, Elaine? You know the old man would never break down and make the first move this way? It isn't like him. Is this some private scheme of yours? Please, Richard. You mean to tell me he sent you to tell me this? Well, of course. Oh. Well, I suppose I'd better humor him, huh? What time did you say? Nine o'clock. Okay. Nine o'clock. You're amazed at yourself, Elaine. You seem to know exactly what you're doing, as if you've been planning it for weeks. At home in Dick's room, you find what you're looking for. The German Luger pistol he'd brought home from Europe and a clip of cartridges. You load it. Leave it in the drawer ready for nine o'clock. You rang this? Yes, Simpson. As Mr. Waterford finished his dinner, I believe he... As, Miss. And I'm to bring him his coffee in the library now. If you should want anything later on, Miss, just ring. I'll not be going out this evening. Wait, what did you say? I said I wasn't going out this evening, Miss. But this is your usual night off, isn't it? Yes, Miss, but Cook had to leave early. And I promised I'd clear up for her. Ah, I hope it's all right with you. Look here, Simpson. Don't you attend some sort of meetings on your evenings off. Seems to me you had mentioned once or twice. You had a... Yes, Miss Hilly. Well, should you be there tonight? Oh, I should rarely, Miss, but... Well, you go on then. Oh, I couldn't do that, Miss. If Mr. Waterford should find that the dinner things hadn't been cleared up, would he? Oh, you can do all that when you get back, Simpson. I'll see that it's all right with Mr. Waterford. Oh, very well. Thank you, Miss. You listen in the hallway until Simpson leaves. The old man is sitting in the library now, stuffed and dozing, with the radio going full blast like it always does. Twenty minutes to nine. Dick would have left the club by now, but must make sure. A phone call. Hello? Is Mr. Waterford Jr. there, please? How long ago? Did he take a taxi, do you know, or did he drive his own car? Well, never mind. It doesn't matter. What? Oh, his own car. Thank you. Thank you very much. His own car? Good. No taxi driver to serve as a possible alibi. No time to be lost now. You put on a pair of gloves and get the luger from Dick's room. Carefully, you wipe off all traces of fingerprints. Downstairs, you open the library door quietly. The old man is slumped in his chair, snoring softly. Silently, you wedge over toward him. The radio blaring away in the corner, loud enough to cover even the sound of a gunshot. You raise the gun. Take careful aim. You can't miss. Blank. You lay the gun on the floor where it can be easily seen. Leave the radio blaring away and slip out of the room, closing the door after you. Upstairs now, quickly. You glance at your watch. Three minutes to nine. I'm ready. Simpson! What are you doing with that gun? Dad, he's been shot. I found him. What? Don't go in there. I'm going to call the police. The police? Oh, no, wait. I've got to get rid of it. My gun? You don't think that I... I came in. I found him. The gun was on the floor. I must have picked it up. I don't remember my gun. What was it doing down here? Who could have... Elaine? I was in my room. Richard, what are you trying to say? I don't know what I'm trying to say. I'm going to call the police. Honourable Mr. Richard Waterford Jr. A murder charge staring him in the face insisting on calling the police. He's playing right into your hands, isn't he, Elaine? The rest of the pieces fall into place like a jigsaw puzzle. Go on, Miss Waterford. I was in my room. I heard the radio playing and Richard shot him. He was downstairs in the hallway with the gun in his hand. Elaine, you're making it seem as though I... Dad, please. You'll have your chance to talk at the trial. Now, Miss Winters, you were aware that Mr. Waterford objected to your marrying his son? Yes, I was. You were also aware that Mr. Waterford intended to do everything in his very considerable power to prevent it? Well, I knew that he would... And were you aware, too, that on the day before the crime, the accused was heard having a violent argument with his father in which he threatened to kill him? No! I heard him say something like, I love Megan, we're going to be married. If you do anything to bring unhappiness to that girl, I swear I'll kill you. Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict? We have, Your Honor. We, the jury, find the defendant guilty as charged. Well, that's that, Elaine. For a day or two, the headlines howl like banchees. Waterford murderer to die in chair. Richard Waterford guilty. Inherits father's fortune but won't live to spend it. Then things begin to quiet down and you wait for the law to take its course and leave you sole heir to the Waterford Millions. Then, then they lain out of a clear sky a new headline. Waterford heir to marry on eve of execution. I suppose you know what's happened, Mr. District Attorney. That depends, Miss Waterford. You know what I mean. You can't let them go through with this marriage. It's illegal. Sit down, Miss Waterford. I'm sorry. There's such a shock seeing it in the papers. It's true, then. Is what true? Richard and Margaret. They're going to be married. Yes, I believe they are. But how can you let a man marry on the day of his execution? Is it torture? It was his last request. Since Miss Winter's agreed, there was no reason to refuse it. Well, I've never heard of anything so fantastic. Isn't it enough that you got him convicted? Isn't it enough that he's going to the chair? How can you stand by and see him married when you know he's going to die a few hours later? Please, oh, please, you must stop it. You must. Don't you see, Richard mustn't marry Margaret. Why, Miss Waterford? Why? Inhuman. Is that the only reason? Yes. That's the only reason. Suppose you've read the papers, Elaine. Then it is true. Yes. Well, aren't you going to congratulate us? Wish us lifelong happiness? Margaret, I've just come from the District Attorney's office. The District Attorney has anything... No, my dear. I went there to get him to stop the marriage. Oh. Margaret, how can you do this to Richard? He wants it this way. I have no right to refuse. No right to refuse? You have no right to do anything but refuse. Richard is sitting in the death cell this very minute. Don't any of you see what a married ceremony would do to him? How can you be so inhuman? The least you can do is... What do you think it's doing to me? Do you think I want it this way? Do you think I want to become Dick's widow three hours after I become his wife? Oh, Elaine. Oh, how cruel of me, my dear. Of course, I'm sorry. I was thinking only of Richard. But don't you see that's just why you mustn't go through with it. For him, it'll all be over a few hours after you're married. But you, Margaret, you'll have to live through it all the rest of your life. You could never marry again. You could never face another minister as long as you live. Oh, Margaret, dear, you mustn't do this thing. For your own sake, because Richard is beyond your help now. He'll understand. I'm glad they go through with me. Dick's asked me to marry him, and I've accepted. I don't care about anything else. I don't care what happens afterward. I'm going to marry him. All right, ma. I suppose there's nothing more to be said. Excuse me. Yes? Yes, some reporters downstairs who want to see you. Oh, please send them away. I can't see anybody now. Yes, Miss Winters. Don't they leave me alone? I don't know what I'll do if they don't stop coming here. I'm given me any peace and stick. Why don't you go away, Margaret? I can't. Not now, anyway. Oh, I don't mean far away. Just for a few days until it's time to go to Richard. You could stay on the launch. It has living quarters. It's anchored just a little way up in the bay. There'd be no one to disturb you there. You could tell him to come for you when it was time. I could do that. I could not. I'll come with you if you like. They'll find out. They'll know her. You won't tell us so, dear. I'll go home and pack a few things. I'll meet you here in an hour. She jumped at the notion of staying on the launch. If you fail now, the entire Waterford estate will go to Margaret as Dick's widow. But you won't fail. It'll be easy. No moon tonight. I will doubt you when you tell him she's committed suicide. Everybody knows the state she's in. Who wouldn't commit suicide under such circumstances? I'm glad you thought of coming here, Elaine. I knew it would help. So quiet. Darkness is like an ointment. Water looks so clean and cool. No boats around, no people. Yes, dear. Just you and I. No one to disturb. You didn't think I was going to let you marry Richard, did you? What? What did you say? Why do you want to cheat me out of what belongs to me? Elaine, what are you talking about? It's mine now. The marriage isn't going to take place, dear. Not now. You did it, Elaine. Yes, dear. I did. I killed Richard's father. And isn't it unfortunate, Margaret, that you can't swim? The whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. But now, here's a little lady who seems to have a perplexed look on her face. What's the question, Miss Marguess? Well, Mr. Miller, I'd like to know just what those five compounds are in signal premium motor oil that keeps motors six times cleaner. Reduce cylinder wear one-third. Answer. Compound number one actually cleanses the motor of old carbon. Compound two prevents harmful varnish, gum and sludge. Compound three improves oil circulation to vital engine parts. Compound four keeps oil from thinning out when your motor's hot. And compound five protects costly bearings from corrosion. Well, no wonder signal premium is so much better than old-fashioned oil. And no wonder drivers who want sweeter performance and longer motor life are saying... I'm making my next door change a change for the better. A change to signal premium motor oil. And now, back to the whistler. So this is the last move, Elaine. Just this one more and it's all over. There's nothing left between you now, nothing to keep you from your inheritance. Yes, there's every reason to believe Margaret, frantic, despondent Margaret had committed suicide. A better reason, in fact, than the one the prosecution advanced to convict Dick of his father's murder. Get away from me, Elaine. I tell you. No, you don't. No. I got her. Let me go. Are you all right, Miss Winters? Yes, thank you. She was going to kill us all. I was trying to stop her. What's the meaning of how are you, Miss Waterford? How did you get here? Miss Winters suggested it. Margaret. You had every motive for killing your uncle. We knew it from the first. But everything else pointed to Dick. Quite unofficially, we decided to give you the opportunity of either clearing yourself completely or convicting yourself. You mean Richard and Margaret? The marriage? There wasn't going to be any marriage. We wanted to see if Margaret was right. If the loss of the Waterford millions would be enough to try a second-gilling. You're wrong. I wouldn't talk any more if I were you. You're under arrest for murder. At nine o'clock, the Whistler will bring you another strange tale. The Whistler is broadcast for your entertainment by the marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine-quality automotive accessories and by your neighborhood signal dealer. This program produced by George W. Allen with tonight's story by Ken Harvey, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. That whistle is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. This is Marvin Miller speaking, reminding you to look for those familiar yellow and black circle signs that identify those popular signal oil stations in seven western states from Canada to Mexico. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.