 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 Whistler's strange story, Dark Island. Dark Island was a fitting background for the grim scene just offshore. The waves on the beach all but drowned the staccato reports of gunfire, but the man crouched low in the tiny sailboat, could see the stabbing bursts of flame with each shot. Here the bullets sting into the water around him. Yes, it was a very fitting background, because the tiny island had once been the sole property of an underworld boss named Sid Stoffer, the huge old mansion he'd built was still standing. It had been a mute witness to many a shooting fray in years past. Now it was a hotel, a focal point of the little artist colony that had sprung up on Dark Island, a gay bohemian group, too preoccupied with their own activities to be aware of the excitement taking place in the nearby cold. But the man in the boat, Ernie Regan, was more than aware. Yes, Ernie, you maneuver the boat frantically, fighting your way toward shore, and then abruptly the firing ceases, doesn't it? And a half hour later, you're back at the boat dock, tying up, and very much relieved. Have a good cruise, Mr. Regan. Uh, yeah, fine, Sam. But give me a hand with a stern line, will you? Sure. Toss her over. Got it. Thanks, Sam. Oh, she's made fast. Mrs. Tenner was down to the dock looking for you. She's having a party there at a place. Want you to stop in and meet some folks? Oh, all right, thanks, Sam. I'll do just that. Good night. Good night, Mr. Regan. Strange isn't it, Ernie? The contrast from those terrifying moments in the boat with someone firing down at you trying to kill you, someone who might even be among the guests at the gay patio party. It's still in your mind, isn't it? As you stop by, and Mrs. Tenner immediately takes you in tow. Mr. Regan, I'm so glad you dropped in on us. Well, the regular islanders told me not to miss one of Mrs. Tenner's parties. This is just one of those impromptu things, Mr. Regan, but I guess practically everyone's here. Mr. Tenner? Yes, what? Oh, Julie, my dear. The dark things were running low on firewood. Oh, excuse me. Quite all right, my dear. I was just trying to talk Mr. Regan into joining us. Mr. Regan, Ms. Vincent. Ernie. Hello, Ernie. Not bashful, are you? Oh, it's not that. Then come along. You were asking me something, Julie, and firewood. Oh, yes, I'll see to it. You take Ernie on up to the party. All right. You one of the old timers on the island, Ernie? Hardly. I got here a day before yesterday. Vacation? Oh, sort of. You? Sort of. Mrs. Stee wasn't kidding. Practically everybody is here. They're all a lot of fun. You probably know most of them. A few. Hello, Regan. Hi, Summer. He's having fun. I was until Ames showed up. Ames? Yeah, over there. The one with the built-in sneer. He rides, doesn't he? Trash, strictly trash. Well, need another drink. Excuse me. Doesn't seem to care much for our Mr. Ames, does he? Not many do, I understand. Ames isn't a friendly type. He resents newcomers to the island. Oh, I better watch my step. I wouldn't worry about it. You feel like dancing? How about your drink? I can wait. The incident at the cliff isn't forgotten, is it, Ernie? But Julie helps to take your mind off at occasion. And as the party progresses, you manage to meet some of the islanders. And you wonder if one of them was responsible for the attempt on your life. Later, you find yourself in a small group seated near the fire. Julie, Mrs. Tenner, Summers and Winston Ames. The conversation suddenly veers to a subject of great interest to you. Yes, yes, I knew, Sid Stoffer. I saw the house up there being built back in 27, I think it was. What was he like, Mrs. Tenner? Not what you'd expect. Quiet, soft, spoken, cultured, interested in the art. A pose, perhaps, to cover up. No, I don't think so. Do you, Mr. Summers? No, he was genuinely interested, that's for sure. You knew Stoffer? Yes, I was a newspaper man in the old days. Stoffer took a liking to me for some reason or other. I got to know him pretty well. That what your novel is about, Summers? No, Ames, it isn't about Stoffer. Oh, well, then what is it about? You wouldn't understand. And if you could, you wouldn't like it. Philosophical, huh? Perhaps deep. Not very commercial. Yes, so let's just let it go with that, huh? Mr. Summers, I've heard a story about Stoffer. Well, there have been a lot of him, Julie. Do you think it's true that he actually buried over a quarter of a million dollars somewhere on this island? Hmph. Malaki. Ridiculous, I'd say. Why should he do that? What are banks for? Well, after all, a man in his position. No, he'd be a little afraid of bank accounts. Check up. Income tax, rap. Our friend Mr. Regan has a point there, Summers. No, the story that there's a quarter of a million bucks buried on this island is bunk. Just bunk. But it isn't. You know the story is true, don't you, Ernie? And you know where the money is buried. Yes, that's what brought you to the island. And someone else, apparently. That's someone who tried to kill you. It's almost two in the morning when you leave the party at Mrs. Tennis, start up the path toward your cottage. And then you hear footsteps behind you. Ernie. Ernie. Oh, Julie. Thought you'd gone back to your cottage. I wanted to talk to you. Tell me, Ernie. How does it feel to be a free man again? Free man? Ten years in San Quentin is a long time, isn't it? What's on your mind, Julie? Like I said, I wanted to have a talk with you, Ernie. About what? A quarter of a million dollars, darling. Buried, somewhere on this island. I know it's here, and so do you. Wouldn't it be smarter if we worked together instead of working against one another? Quarter of a million dollars, Ernie. Yes, that's what brought you to Stoffers Island because you knew it was buried here. And now you learn that the attractive Julie Vinson is well aware of that fact, too. And you wonder why you're here. And you wonder if she's responsible for the attempt on your life earlier in the evening as you cruised off the island in a small boat searching out the cave where you're certain the money is hidden. Look, sweetheart, I don't follow this line of conversation. Don't you, Ernie? I had a boyfriend once. His name was Jim Corsi. Corsi? You're a roommate at San Quentin. I used to visit him frequently. And then he died six weeks ago. Pneumonia, they said. Jim Corsi was never what you might call robust. And prison finished him. He didn't have to take that rap, but he did. To save his old friend, Stoffer. They were very close. Were they? Very. That's how we know the money's buried on the island. Don't we, Ernie? Did the Corsi say it was? No. He was pretty certain of it. Only he didn't know just where it was. But he had a few ideas. Ideas he might have passed on to you. You heard what Summers said. The yarn about the money being buried on the island is bunk. Just bunk. And what are you doing here? I told you. Vacation. Oh, sure, sure. The funny thing, Jim Corsi never mentioned a girl named Julie to me. How about a girl named Agatha? Oh. Yeah. Agatha Julie, same girl. I sort of wanted to break off the old ties. Agatha Clark. Right? Right. So. Here we are, Ernie. What's the next move? Is it up to me, sweetheart? It is. But do think it over. I'll be down at the beach in the morning for a swim. Let me know what your answer is then. Good night, Ernie. There it is, Ernie. The cards on the table. Julie Vinson suggesting a partnership. A 50-50 split of the money. An attractive, exciting girl, isn't she? But you're not ready to accept her offer because you feel you can't trust her. You're certain she's in league with someone. Perhaps the someone who tried to kill you. Yes. It could be a double cross, couldn't it? Julie working with someone else. Trying to find out who she was. Working with someone else. Trying to find out what you know, what your plans are. You think it over very carefully that night and decide what you must do. The following morning, down at the beach. Hello, Ernie. Morning, Julie. Have a good night's rest. Fine. Slept like a log. Nothing on your mind? No problem. Well, maybe one. Oh. I tried to kill me last night about half an hour before I got to Mrs. Tenner's. Where did it happen? Near the caves. Oh. So there's someone else on the island who knows about the money. Well, that rather complicates things, doesn't it? Yeah, sort of. You see, the cave can only be entered at low tide and only by an experienced swimmer. Our competition isn't an experienced swimmer. Neither am I, darling. That's why I need a partner. I don't. Is that your answer? No, no, no. I thought it over very carefully, Julie. I have decided we should team up. Hmm. I'm glad to hear that, Ernie. Very glad to hear that. What are your plans? I'm going to get into that cave tonight. The tide will be at its lowest at around eight o'clock. And summers is giving a party. What's the party got to do with it? I've got to hunch our competition is going to be there. And that's where you come in. What am I supposed to do? Create a little diversion. You pull a faint. Faint? Me? Really? It all happens a few minutes before eight o'clock. It'll give me a chance to slip away, unnoticed. The trap is set, isn't it, Ernie? Yes, you've tipped off, Julie, what your plans are. And you're certain she'll reveal those plans to whomever she's working with. That night at summer's party, Julie plays her part to perfection. And in the excitement, the confusion, you slip out the side door and hurry down the path toward the cliffs. And suddenly you veer off and wait in the darkness. Then you hear the footsteps. Hello, Ames. Oh. Mr. Regan. See you tonight. Oh. Mr. Regan. Seeking inspiration? Well, no, the party got frightfully dull. I thought I'd go for a walk. Cigarette? Yeah. Don't pet my enemies. Let go, short. Let go as soon as I get this. That's better. Thirty-eight, huh? Did no novelist win around carrying thirty-eight? Seems I've been double-crossed, hasn't it? Well, never trust a woman, Regan. You mean Julie? Of course. I've made a few mistakes in my lifetime, Regan, but the biggest I ever made was trusting Julie. And she'll double-cross you, too. She will, I tell you. Oh, look, Regan, why don't we play it smart? Meaning? We split the money, fifty-fifty. Leave Julie out of it. I intend to leave her out of it, Ames. Oh, good. Well, wait a minute. Regan, Regan, you wouldn't kill me in cold blood. What about those potshots you took at me while I was out in that boat? No, no. Sure, sure, I've thought about it, Julie, but, well, everybody these days is writing a historical novel. A very good one. Well, true, true, but I don't... Oh, hello, Regan. Summer, it's Julie. Hello, Ernie. Where you been? Outside. I was eating the air drum off that boy. Oh, you're telling me. Well, here, here, you can't stand around with a half-empty glass in your hand. Let me give you a refill. How about you, Julie? Oh, no, no, this is fine. Okay, we're right back. You were gone a long time, darling. Did you... No. What happened? I was followed. Followed? Did you see who it was? Nope, didn't see anyone, as a matter of fact. Just had a feeling someone was tailing me. A little plan. That was smart, Ernie. Can't take any chances. I'll... I'll try again tomorrow night. As soon as I get the money, we'll take off or leave, or leave the island. I've always wanted to go to South America. Rio's a nice place, so they tell me. A quarter of a million dollars, darling. And just the two of us. You're not sorry we teamed up, are you? I'm not sorry at all, sweetheart. Hm. What time are you going to the cave tomorrow night? And what can I do to help? Around eight. You can run a boat with offshore. All right. We'll talk more about it in the morning. Right now, feel like dancing. If you don't mind, Ernie, I think I better go back to my cottage. I've quite a headache. Excitement. Nervousness, I guess. Sure, Julie, sure. So you'll walk Julie back to her cottage. An outside in the shadow of the rose covered arbor. A tender goodnight. Yes. And as you hold Julie close in your arms, you wish things could be different, don't you, Ernie? As she kisses you, you want to believe she means it, but you can't. Because you're certain she's just playing a part that she's been working with Ames. That it was she who tipped off Ames to follow you from the party. That she's only interested in the money and will do anything to get it. You want to tell her Ames is dead. His body now washed out to sea. You wish she'd confess she'd been working with Ames. Julie. Yes, darling. You know, when you call me darling, I almost believe you mean it. But you're not sure? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. It's enough to... Cause a gal to stage a big romantic pitch to get her hands on some of it. You took the words right out of my mouth, baby. You know something, Ernie? Yeah. A few hours ago you would have had something. But that was a few hours ago. Meaning? The money doesn't mean so much anymore, darling. But I do. Don't you know? I guess I do. Anything else you want to say, Ernie? There isn't anything else, darling. At least for now. Back at your cottage a few minutes later you pack your bag, glance at your watch. You still have several hours to wait before the dawn tide when you can get the money. You feel bad about Julie. Wish she'd told you about her working with Ames. Then you could believe in her. But she didn't. Not even when you gave her a perfect opportunity. And you're almost certain she intends to double-cross you when it serves her purpose. Then you realize you can find out, make certain whether Julie is really with you or merely playing a part. Julie doesn't know Ames is dead, his body washed out to sea. Quickly you hurry outside and walk down the path toward Ames cottage. Inside the cottage you type a note to Julie on Ames stationery and sign it with Ames initials. W.A. In it you say Ames is getting the hidden Stoffer money at dawn tide. Ask her to meet him at a secluded spot near the pier at 3.30 next morning. Be ready to leave the island with him. Then you hurry to Julie's cottage and slip the note under Julie's door. She shows up. You'll know that all she wants is the Stoffer money. You'll decide then what to do about Julie. You start back toward your cottage. You hear them close by. Recognize Mrs. Tenner's voice. Summers, his party guests. You look around for a place to hide but you're too late. Regan, hello there. How nice. We're going out Angelico's boat for a couple of hours. Why don't you come along? Well, thanks. I was just on my way back to the cottage. I've got to catch a little sleep. No, no, really, thanks. I'll see you up early tomorrow. Okay, too bad you won't come along, Ernie. Must have a big day planned for tomorrow, huh? Yeah, big day, Summers. Real big day. Stoffer's Island. Usually quiet and peaceful. Not at all a reflection of its early days as a gangsta's hideaway was now vibrant and alive with excitement. Its present day residents clogged together, babbling nervously, wondering. Talking in hushed tones about the boats arriving one after another from the mainland. Police boats. Newspaper boats. Boats filled with a plain curious. Why? Because a killing had occurred. A killer had been apprehended and further. A confession was forthcoming. And it was all over. Only a few pertinent details to be cleaned up for the police and the press. Oh, come on, Sheriff. I need a good story. Well, it was a case of mistaken identity. And I got that straight from the killer. You mean this guy that was killed? The murderer thought he was somebody else. A guy named Winston Ames. Huh. Lucky break for Ames. Well, maybe. But maybe not. Ames is still missing. Nobody's seen him since yesterday. But the motive, Sheriff? The motive was Stoffer's money. Now, you boys know the story about a quarter of a million dollars that Stoffer was supposed to have hidden here. Oh, yeah. Well, according to the confession, this guy Ames got a tip from somebody as to where the money was hidden. He and his girlfriend, Julie Vinson, came here to get it. But apparently that tip was a phony. Oh, it's been a million phony tips about that, though. Well, a little later on, this guy Regan showed up. Now I'm beginning to get the picture. And Julie Vinson made a play for Regan to see if she could learn anything. But then she fell for Regan in a big way and decided to double-cross Ames. And rub him up a size, huh? Oh, no, no. Her original idea was just to skip with Regan. Then last night she got a note apparently written by Ames, telling her Ames was picking up the money early this morning and asking her to meet him and skip with him. Well, how come she shot Regan? Well, it was still pitch dark at 3.30 this morning, of course. And when Regan showed up at the same time and the same place that the note said Ames would be, Julie Vinson naturally figured Regan was Ames and let him have it. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman as The Whistler, Lamont Johnson, Jean Bates, Tom Brown, Gloria Anne Simpson, Britt Wood, and Larry Dobkin. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen, directed by Robert Hafter with story by Adrian Jondo, 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 also fictional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember to tune in at this same time next Sunday when the signal oil comes