 I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yeah, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now the whistler's strange story. Impulse. A crowd in the waiting room of the New York airport. Hardly noticed the small slender man in the trench coat standing here the magazine counter. The few who gave him a passing grant certainly had no way of guessing what was going through his mind at the moment. For his face betrayed no sign of the struggle it raged within him. Christopher Daniels, professor of English, was striving to reach a decision, a very important decision. At this moment he had reached the crossroads. He had a choice to make. He could go on living his own dull life, or a new life. The life of another man. Mr. Neil Baldwin. A man whose name was now being called over the public address system. Mr. Neil Baldwin, please report to the reservation staff immediately. Mr. Baldwin, please. Suddenly Christopher Daniels shivered. This unbelievable unexpected chance had come so suddenly it almost seemed like a dream. A dream which had reached its climax that afternoon in his room at the hotel. Perhaps it had really started this morning at his home in New Haven. That unpleasant scene with his white blanch. He'd forgotten what it brought it all on. Money, his job, didn't matter really. The scenes with blanch always ended the same way. Blanch, please. We've been over all this time and time again. Yes, yes we have, Chris. What good has it done? You never think of me really, what I gave up to marry you. I know. I could have had a lot of things, Chris, but no. No, I had to marry an unambitious English professor. Blanch. A professor who writes second-rate poetry on the side. That's enough. Is it? Every time I've suggested that you give up this, this dreary little job. Blanch, leave me alone, please. Perhaps it was then the bad dream had started. That unpleasant scene with blanch. Like so many that had gone on before. Scenes that left you empty, miserable. Sitting in your study oblivious to everything except the vague wish you usually had at times like this. The things would somehow straighten themselves out. You hadn't heard the doorbell. And then you saw Blanch and your old friend Neil Baldwin standing in front of you. Hello, Chris. Neil! This is a surprise. How are you? Fine, fine. Well, it's good to see you again, Neil. Sit down. Come on, sit down. Thank you, but just for a few minutes. Well, let me see now. I haven't seen you since the class reunion, have I? No, no, I guess you haven't. What are you doing down here in New Haven, Neil? What's wrong with New Haven? Nothing. Chris thinks it's the world's most fascinating mechanism. Oh, Blanch. Actually, we've practically been neighbors for quite a while. I've been working back and forth between here and Boston for an investment house. And in fact, I had an apartment just a few blocks away. I forgot to tell you, Chris, I ran into Neil about six months ago on the street. I told him we'd both love a visit with him. Well, you should have known that anyway. Chris, I did. It wasn't that I didn't want to see you. I've been busy. Now I'm just stopping in to say goodbye. Goodbye? Yeah. After a year and you're saying goodbye, where are you going? Well, New York right now and then South America. South America? Oh, that's wonderful, Neil. Business trip? No, Chris. No, I guess my business days are over. I had a talk with my doctor last month and it's either take it easy or else. So I'm going to take what little money I've saved, go down to South America where I don't know a soul and loaf the rest of my life. Well, I'm sorry to hear about your health, Neil, but the trip sounds wonderful when you're leaving. The plane leaves late this afternoon. Impulse wasn't at Chris. Perhaps you hoped that would straighten things out between you and Blanche. Just getting away from her overnight. Quickly, you'll run upstairs to throw a few things in your bag. And later, as you're driving, Neil down the coast toward New York. Do you like Chris? No. No thanks. Well, how things been going for you, Chris? Oh, pretty well. Pretty well. Hey, look, old man, I know it's none of my business, but, you know, you seem quite worried. Worried? Well, no, I'm not worried. Not really, I guess. Not really. Well, Neil, the truth, can you, Chris? Tell them that you and Blanche are unhappy. But you haven't done anything about it because you're sure she needs you. Now, you can't tell Neil you'd like to call it off because you hardly dare tell yourself. Later, after you park your car in the garage and check in at the New York Hotel, you leave Neil stretched out comfortably on your bed, cigarette smoke curling from his nostrils. You go on to the quaint little restaurant in the village. But that doesn't seem to help. You sit there hardly touching the food or the wine. Finally, you leave, drive back to the hotel, park your car and start down the block with Neil's briefcase tucked under your arm. It isn't until you're almost to the hotel entrance you notice the white ambulance driving away, the excited crowd yelling about it, the policemen keeping them back. Here, here, here, where are you going? Oh, to my room, my love. What's the matter, Officer? Ah, there's been a fire upstairs in the hotel. A fire? What was it? Seventh floor. Seventh floor? That's right. New tenants set a man like a sleeper smoking in bed. He's dead. All right, folks, now let's clear the entrance. Come on, come on. Smoking in the van and he's dead. Officer, who was it? Who was it? The man who... Oh, well, the clerk said it was a man named Daniel. It's Christopher Daniels. What? Just checked in a couple of hours ago. No shock, isn't it, Chris? Your friend Neil Baldwin burned to death in your hotel room. And you stand in the street with Neil's briefcase under your arm, staring emptily at the window on the seventh floor. They all think you were dead, don't they, Chris? Yes, Christopher Daniels no longer exists. You find your way back to your car. You remember opening the briefcase, looking at the papers. A ticket is for Bermuda instead of South America. Bermuda, Flight 11. And you have Neil's papers, his luggage. A reservation at the Crystal Beach Hotel. And there's something else, too. An envelope with money and a lot of money. Mr. Neil Baldwin, please report to the reservation desk immediately. Mr. Baldwin, please. The next thing you know, you're at the airport, standing in the waiting room by the magazine counter. Flight 11, leading for Bermuda. All aboard, please. Mr. Neil Baldwin, please report to the reservation desk immediately. Mr. Baldwin, please. Too late to turn back. And now you don't want to turn back. No, you've managed to put your past out of your mind, with the help of Dorothy Gilbert. Yes, it was on the plane kept to Bermuda that you met her. And the two of you hit it off right from the start. You sensed instinctively that the two of you had a lot in common. You felt a pleasant glow and she smiled. Finally, there's the arrival itself. The beautiful green island of Bermuda, looming up in a turquoise sea. You check in at the Crystal Beach Hotel, register as Neil Baldwin. And later, in one of the quaint horse-drawn series, you ride over to Belmont Manor where Dorothy is staying. You're excited, aren't you, Chris? Like a schoolboy on his first date. Hi. I didn't expect to see you so soon. I couldn't wait, Dorothy. You ready? I'd love to. But come along, my, my carriage awaits. Now. I was just thinking. I can see already I'd like to stay on here a lot longer than a three week vacation. I think I'd like to stay here for a long time, Neil. So would I, Dorothy. Long time. The thing over the sun when she called you Neil wasn't Chris. Seems so unnatural. It made you realize you were really Chris Daniels from New Haven, an English professor with a wife named Blanche. Yes, for a moment, Blanche is back in your mind, but it's only for a moment. She fades out again, and you're busy showing Dorothy Crystal Beach, the pink sands, making plans for the future. That evening, you're dancing at the Ace of Clubs. And over there, near the ball, there's that man to be looking at us. I don't know him. He's looking at us. He's looking at you, Dorothy. I don't blame him. You're talking mighty pretty, Mr. Maybe that's because you were so pretty, Miss. Oh, Neil. You are, Dorothy. But I'm glad you think I am. There's no doubt in your mind about what's happening to you and Dorothy, is there? It's all very simple. You're certain she's in love with you, and you're in love with her. Yes, for the first time in your life, you're in love. But the clouds over the sun again, this time it won't go away. This whole thing is unfair, isn't it? Unfair to Dorothy, unfair to Blanche. Now you've got to make another decision. You're still thinking about it as you take Dorothy back to Belmont Manor and return to your hotel. Then as you walk into the lobby, the desk clerk gives you something else to think about. Oh, Mr. Baldwin. Mr. Baldwin. Yes? Yes, what is it? A message for you, sir. Came while you were out. A message? A telephone call from New York. I took it myself. It was from your wife, Mrs. Baldwin. Said to expect her sometime within the next few days. You hadn't counted on anything like this, had you, Chris? Neil had never mentioned his wife to you. You had no idea he was married, but you're not too surprised. Neil was always close-mouthed, seldom talking about himself. Yet it does seem strange he didn't mention his wife, doesn't it? But now it's past wondering about it. Neil is dead and you're using his name. And Mrs. Baldwin will be arriving in a few days. You're trembling as you turn away from the desk clerk and start for the stairs. And then... Oh, Mr. Baldwin, one more thing. Yes? I almost forgot to tell you. There was a man here early in the evening asking about you. Oh, well, what did he want? Well, he didn't say. I thought you'd gone over to the ace of clubs or... What do you look like? Oh, war, blue suit, rather short, heavy set man, as I remember. Yes, Chris. It's the short man again. The man who was staring at you tonight when you were dancing with Dorothy at the ace of clubs. You're a certain he's following you, aren't you? Perhaps he's from the police. And you wonder if he knows the truth about you. You hurry up to your room. There's little sleep for you that night. Pressure is building, isn't it, Chris? And the strain on you begins to show the next evening at dinner. Neil? Neil, that's the matter. The matter? Mm-hmm. Nothing, Dorothy? Yes, there is. All evening you've been acting through. Oh, so strangely, you're worried. What is it, Neil? Dorothy, I'm about to trust me. Although you've no reason to, I must admit. I do trust you, Neil, and I've got a good reason to. Being in love with you is a good reason. Let's get out of here, Dorothy. There's that short man again at the table near the wall. It seems to be... Don't look around, Dorothy. Just keep walking. Yes, Neil, of course. If you don't mind, I think I'd better take you back to your hotel. Neil, that man, is he what's bothering you? Well, he's part of it. He's been following you, hasn't he? Are you in trouble, Neil? Yes, Dorothy. I'm in trouble. You take Dorothy back to the Belmont Manor and leave her with that hurt, puzzled look in her eyes. The look you give anything to smooth away. Then you go back to your hotel. And as you enter the lobby, the desk clerk calls to you. Oh, Mr. Baldwin. Yes? There was another telephone call for you an hour ago from New York. New York? Yes, sir. From Mrs. Baldwin. What did she say? Well, she was able to get plane reservations. She'll arrive at the airport tomorrow morning, 8.30. You're run blindly out of the hotel into the night. Finally, you find yourself on the road leading to the Belmont Manor. Yes, the Belmont Manor and Dorothy. Because you've finally made your decision. You've decided to tell Dorothy everything. And you do. Your life with Blanche, your unhappiness, the madness that seized you when you discovered Neil was dead and that everyone thought it was you. How you struggle with your conscience and how your conscience finally was. Yes, you pour out the whole agonizing story to Dorothy there on the beach. And the sun has come up before you finish. Chris. Ah, I like the name much better than Neil. It's you two more, darling. I'm going back to Blanche, Dorothy. I should have known I couldn't leave her. I know. You're just not built that way. I guess that's why I feel as I do towards you. It isn't that I want to. It's just that... But I know she needs me. Of course she does. Don't worry about it. Just remember how nice everything was for a little while. Things we want, we just can't have. Why did I have to hurt you? You didn't hurt me, Chris. I... Wait. When are you leaving? Right away, I guess. I don't know how I stand with the law. I'll find out when I get back, I suppose. I don't think I've done anything criminal. I've just been a fool. What about Mrs. Baldwin? I don't know, Dorothy. When I get back to my room, I'll write her a letter telling what's happened and leave Neil's money and papers with it for her. It's not exactly that brave thing to do, I suppose, but... I just can't face her. Well, Chris, I... I guess you better be going. Yes. Dorothy, I can't ask you to forget or forgive. Too much has happened, I know. I hope that, well, time... Time, yes. Time will help a lot, Chris. It always does with everyone. And someday, who knows? Perhaps things will be different. Dorothy, I... I do love you, Dorothy. I always will. I know you do. Goodbye, darling. Isn't it, Chris? And there's nothing left to do but go back to your hotel. Write the note to leave for Neil's wife and then buy your ticket back to the United States. Write the new haven in black. But it's not as easy as it sounds, is it? Writing the letter to Mrs. Baldwin is not easy. There's a lot of explaining to do. You're so engrossed in the letter that you don't hear the door behind you closed softly. You don't see the short, heavy-set man walk silently across the room and stand looking over your shoulder. Hello. What are you writing, the confession? Who are you? What do you want? I'm Jim Mason, private detective, and I think you'll know what I want. You and I can have a nice long talk, brother, because right now you're looking an awful lot of trouble right in the eye. They finally caught up with you. Your little adventure is at an end. Your first decision to use Neil's name run away from home was a bad one, wasn't it? And your second decision to go back looks like you made that one a little too late. Because now no one will ever believe you really were going back. There's only one thing to do. One thing you know how to do. And that's to tell Mason the whole story just as you told it to Dorothy. And that's what you do. You give Mason the whole story. It's sort of a wild tale, isn't it, Mr. I know it must sound so, but... You, uh, you can prove you're not Neil Baldwin? Yes, yes, of course I can. Well, then you're a lucky guy. Lucky? I was told you he saved up to retire on? Yeah. He embezzled that from the company he worked for. They sent me down here after him. Hey, you still have the dough? Yes, it's over there in the beef case. I haven't touched it except for what I've spent since I've been here, which I can replace. Ah, you are a lucky guy. Getting the dough back to all the companies interested in, as far as I'm concerned, you can go your way. Thanks. What are you going to do? Go back? It's the only decent thing I can do. Well, you're not quite out of the woods yet. I guess you are, if Mrs. Baldwin backs up your story that you're not Neil Baldwin. Wait a minute, she's right outside. All right, Mrs. Baldwin, you come on in. Neil Darling, why didn't you meet me at the airport? Chris... Blanche. I thought you were... I was what, Blanche? I thought... You thought I died in that hotel fire instead of Neil. You thought he'd be here waiting for you with the money he stole. Now, you had it all planned, didn't you? You knew he stole it, didn't you, Blanche? Yes, yes, but... You've been meeting him for a long time, haven't you? Well, I... And all the time I was torturing myself thinking that you needed me. Oh, Chris, we... Our life was so drab, I couldn't help it. I wanted to travel, enjoy living. Neil offered me these things. He offered me and meet Neil down here on stolen money. It wouldn't have been running out on you. You would have been happier too. You could have gotten a divorce, possibly found someone you would have been happier with later on. Yes. Yes, that's true, isn't it? You know, you're coming down here to meet Neil kept me from making an awful mistake. Losing something that means more to me than anything in the world. I... I don't understand. You don't have to, Blanche. No. Just me. And someone over at Belmont Manor. I'm going over there right now. The Whistler. Listen next week when once again the United States Air Force is in Europe. Present... The Whistler.