 I'm the Whistler, and I know many things before 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 fell in green. The quiet of the late night was broken only by the rapid click of a woman's heels in the sidewalk of the street, but only an hour before had bustled with traffic and passing pedestrians. Nola Norton stopped for a moment and looked up toward the light from a third floor apartment. From it to the package she carried under one arm. Then she sighed, resumed her steps and turned up the walk to the apartment building. She opened the front door and then made her way up to Chuck Williams' apartment on the third floor. Come in. Is your coffee ready? No. My coffee is never ready. Hi. Nola, my dear dear Nola, can it be that you've come calling with a gift? It's more of a bribe. I thought if I brought this along as a reward, I might be able to deliver your column on time for one. My brand too. And the seal isn't broken. I'm sure you can take care of that. Looks like I'm just the man for the job. Can't the drink wait, Chuck? Finish the column, then you can have as much as you want. Never put off till tomorrow what you can drink tonight. Nola, join me. You know I don't drink. Not usually, but tonight you'll have a drink with me, Nola. Because I'm on strike against deadlines. Maybe against the whole world. Come on, Nola. Join me. Want me to finish your column, Chuck? I could, and you could finish your drinking. Fair trade. Nope. I don't want you to write it, Nola. Or rewrite after I finish with it. You're supposed to be my assistant and researcher. My girl Friday is the same girl. But you know, some of my columns haven't been reading quite right to me the next day. Maybe you should know this. Whether I've been drinking or not, I always remember exactly what I've written. If you're referring to that item on Jack Winters, I got a last-minute tip. Pretty spicy, bit of intrigue. I write legitimate, straight-out stories. I don't like literary blackmail. I don't write it. I don't want you sticking any more stuff like that in it. It's what people like to read, Chuck. Yes, and a lot of people who believe that are writing columns for the people who like to read them. All right, Chuck, skip it. Finish the column legitimate, straight-out, and as dull as you like. Careful, Nola. Your claws are showing. Fine, thanks. I get for bringing you a drink. That's a funny thing. Everyone else tries to keep me from drinking. Especially Paul. But not you, Nola. You bring me liquor. And ask only my thanks for it. In return for you having your daily column ready so I can get it in before the deadline. Finish it up, will you, Chuck? Not yet, Nola. I feel like talking. Maybe I'm all written out. Maybe the words will only come vocally now. They're beginning to jam in my typewriter. Did you and Paul finish your play? Paul says we did. I still say it's got no third act. But he's so sure it's ready to go, he's leaving in a couple of days to take it to New York. Paul's leaving so soon? Yeah. You sort of light up for him, don't you, Nola? Don't be silly, Chuck. The only time I ever think I see a woman behind that concrete facade you've built around yourself. I don't like that, Chuck. You know something, Nola? I don't like you. I don't like you at all. My heart bleeds. I got you all figured, baby. It took me a while, but I finally caught on. Well, what are you doing, Chuck? He'll hear. Hello, Chronicle? Get me editorial. Editorial? Give me a mic on the copy there. Is that there? Okay, try Egon Drake and rewrite. Drake? Chuck Williams. I'm firing Nola Norton effective this minute. What? Make a note of it, will you? Why? For my own protection, of course. I'll explain the mac in the morning. What on earth? Like I said, I got you all figured, and I don't like you. You must have had a few before I got here. Not one. Come here, Nola. Put it on the balcony with me. I want to show you something. Chuck, you're not making any sense. I never made such good sense. Look at it, Nola. The whole beautiful city stretched out before you. Take it. It's just lying there waiting for your greedy little hands. Take it, Nola. All of it. But leave Paul alone. And leave me and my little column alone, too. Okay, Chuck. I'll take it. And Paul, if I want him. And your column, too, Chuck. Nola, Nola, be careful. Look out. You should have known you couldn't stop me, Chuck. It seems a long time ago that Chuck Williams' tragic fall from the balcony of his apartment was judged accidental by the authorities. And in the months that followed, you try to forget that haunting moment when you pushed him to his death. The panic that accompanied your escape left out the back entrance to the building. And the frozen fear that engulfed you when you reached your own apartment to find that you lost one of your emerald earrings. But that's all behind you now, Nola. You're sure you must have lost the earring in your hurried flight to your apartment because it was never mentioned in the investigation following Chuck's death. And that was six months ago. Since then, you've had another one made to match. And you wear them almost daily and Chuck's old desk at the newspaper office writing Chuck's old column. But it's your column now, isn't it, Nola? Hey, I'm busy. If I'm bothering you, I'm delighted. Oh! Oh, Wallace! Oh, you can't be here. You're in New York. That's the advantage of having a split personality. Anyway, I got back from New York about a week ago. A week? And you're just now looking me up? I must be pretty far down on your list. It depends on where you start reading, Nola. Besides, I've been busy. The party wants you to come. Oh, I'd love to. How long do you intend to go on without kissing me? This is Chuck's old office. It reminds me too much of him. Oh, well, I have an apartment. I'm at the Midway Castle. So you finally have your castle, huh? Well, I always knew you'd get it one way or another. Castles get lonely sometimes, Pa. Well, I'd like to rescue the lonely princess. How about Wednesday? That's when I'm giving the party. Well, that's also three days away. The best I can do, Nola. All right. Wednesday then. But why a party? Why not just the two of us? We're celebrating the flop of old play. Oh, darling, how novel to celebrate a flop. Isn't it rather ghoulish considering... Considering the co-author is no longer here? No. That's exactly what Chuck would have wanted. He always claimed we'd never get out of Boston without a good third act. Is that why I didn't go over? Who knows. Chuck was the brains behind it. The play took a dive and I'm broke. So we'll celebrate. Who's coming? Lots of people. A select group, of course. Janet, Kimber? Sure, Janet. Who is a better right than the leading lady that tells the flop of a play. Oh, indeed. But we'll meet you at our little swan ray, Nola. I'm flattered, Pa. Really flattered, but the notice is rather short. I'm booked up for weeks. That ain't high, huh? With a pencil for a broomstick. If that's the kind of dialogue you and Chuck had in your play, no wonder it died. Still the same sweet, Nola. Are twice the readers, Chuckhead? So I've heard. But be careful. Don't let the column jinx you. And what's that supposed to mean? Nothing much, I guess. Only it's too bad we can't get a spirit flash from Chuck. Maybe the column is bad luck. Chuck was his own bad luck. Or maybe he just tangled with the wrong kind of luck. I don't worry about luck, Pa. Huh? I see you still wear your emerald earrings. You always called them lucky. I wear them because I like them. I always will. And you wear them Wednesday when I come to your castle and sweep you off to my party. Perhaps you didn't hear me, Paul. I told you I was busy booked for weeks. See you Wednesday, Nola. About eight. Who do you think you are? You can't drop in here after being away so long and tell me when you'll see me. Wednesday, Nola, dear. I will go to your stupid party. All right. I've waited six months. I can wait till Wednesday. Mr. Paul Wallace in a lobby, Miss Norton. Come on, will you, please? Well, the lady went for stiletto. If the point is safely buried, I'll be right up. Take your time. I still have a paragraph to do. Mike insists you I'm doing a piece on the style of your late lamented play. Oh, Janet Kimber? I saw a screen test today on purpose. I know she was good. Your critics said she carried the play on her back. Or maybe she should have stayed in New York. Sometimes, flea glides aren't time to acknowledge. Yeah. Well, I'll have a drink while you finish. One drink, one poisoned paragraph. You handle the drink. I can still manage the paragraph. I'd like my castle, Paul. I have to admit you've done well, Nola. It's all part of a plan, darling. Oh, plans don't always work out, you know. Chuck and I had plans for a Broadway hit. Chuck was just unlucky. Paul, but this is where Chuck used to live. I know. Well, didn't I tell you? I've lived here ever since I got back from New York. Well, no. No, you didn't. Is this where the party is? Well, yeah. Does it make any difference, Nola? Oh, no. No, of course not, Paul. Why should it? But it does make a difference, doesn't it, Nola? Just the sight of the drab gray building kills you with fear. The same gripping fear that sent you running from it six months ago. The street is once again well traveled and brightly lighted, unlike the last time you were here. You don't dare look up, do you, Nola? You're afraid you might see the balcony. So you fix your gaze straight ahead as you and Paul start up the walk. But the ghosts of past parties and past friends walk the long, dark corridor of your memory. You shiver. No, I suppose it's the same old third-story apartment. Except for a few renovations that broke Mrs. Geisler's heart and purse. Well, you might have had the building painted. Not Mrs. Geisler. He's only doing the things the building inspector insisted upon. Anyway, it's home. Home? Well, you could have so much more for him. I like the old friends and the old straight. Let's go up and stir up a few ghosts, huh? I'm fixing it. Egan Drake! How could you get away from the rewrite desk? Oh, I can always find a way to take you in a potty by Paul. I'll get us a drink, Nola. It's good to see you again, Nola. Your success has made you exclusive. No, just busy. But not as busy as I thought you'd be. I lost the bet. Nobody thought you'd come tonight. I can't wait to see the old gang. The gang? Or Paul? I figured in six months you'd forget him, too. It just explains how little I know women. It also explains why you're still in rewrite. Hey, Nola. At least no one will ever want my job. What's that supposed to mean? Don't be so edgy, my sweet. In my usual muddled way, I was just trying to rewrite the past. Just between the two of us, Nola, do you really think Chuck's death was an accident? Of course I do. Why? Well, I've been thinking there was Chuck's play. Who? It flops. But who knew that six months ago? It could have been a success. And you forget half the play was always Paul. I'm remembering that. But according to Paul, it all belongs to Paul now. I think people like you should never think it could be dangerous. And it could be you do anything for Paul. I remember how you handled the police six months ago when they questioned you. You keep your nose in rewrite, Drake. That's where it belongs. I'm going to see what Paul's doing. You'll start toward the balcony. It draws you like a magnet, doesn't it, Nola? Then you suddenly stop and turn into the bedroom. Despite its fascination, you're not going out on that balcony again, are you? Alone in the bedroom, you realize you must be especially clever tonight. You glance in the mirror as you leave the bedroom and smile as the light catches the brilliance of your lucky emerald earring. Oh, there you are, Nola. Oh, yes, Paul. I want you to meet Janet Kimber. Janet, this is Nola Norton. The two women in my business life. Well, I'll leave you two alone so you can compare notes on me. Well, I'm thrilled to meet you, Miss Norton. Paul's told me so much about you. I'm surprised he had time to remember me when he's producing a play. Incidentally, the critics were very fond of you. And now you're launched in a brand new career. Well, just barely launched, I'd say. Oh, on the contrary, I feel your distance is full of sailing. Well, perhaps that depends a little on you, Miss Norton. Oh, then Paul told you I'm doing tomorrow's column about you. Yes, he did. Perhaps you'd like a people preview. I'd like to know your point in belonging this the fifth. Is there, Miss Kimber? Oh, well, I would like to know, of course. Well, let's set everyone in on it. Everybody. Everybody. Miss Kimber is dying to know what I'm saying about her in tomorrow's column. I think I can remember it worth a word. Here it is, verbatim. Janet Kimber, Broadway's latest export to Hollywood, shows up charmingly naive, refreshingly beautiful, and a great prospect for future asian role. Watch this newcomer climb the stairway to success. Oh! Oh, the viper has lost its sting. I can't believe it. Where is the old Nola we all love and hate? Well, I'm speechless, I guess. I don't know how to thank you, Miss Norton. Well, if anything, I said pushes you up that ladder. I'm well thanked. Oh, it's another Paul. Aren't you pleased? As a fairy godmother, you're a little out of character, aren't you? When Janet Kimber climbs that stairway, she won't be bothered carrying you on her back. Oh? Is that part of your plan? Yes, Paul. I'm going to tell you later. I fixed it at the office so you can have my old job. Your old job? Why not? You're going to lose Janet, you know. Nobody realizes what failure can be until they meet success, head on. All right. You win. I'll take that job, Miss Norton. I'll be the best legman you ever had. I knew you would, Paul. There's so much we can accomplish together. Sure. Let's drink to the new job. And us. Have a sip of the boo that brought poor Chuck down off his balcony. His brand has got it. You know, I don't drink, Paul. Have you forgotten that in six months, too? Oh, you don't drink. So you couldn't possibly be the woman who was with Chuck the night he died. Was there a woman with him? They found lipstick and a glass. And they found a bottle, although I'd taken all his money. Chuck might have had a bottle, didn't he? Well, not out of a shakedown. I'd given the place. Now, someone had been supplying him with liquor. Why? Well, I find that out. I don't know how to write the third act of this little drama. Oh, Mrs. Geisler, come right in. I guess everybody knows Mrs. Geisler, don't they? The owner of the building? Of course. He knows everyone here, I'm sure. You always go up there when he has a party going on, don't you, Mrs. Geisler? What do you have, Mrs. Geisler? Well, a drop of sherry, Paul. When a body reaches my age, every drink calls for two tablespoons of soda. Well, well, the old gang is now assembled. Yes, yes, indeed. And Nola, it seems only yesterday you used to come here for Chuck's coffee. Yeah, it's hard to believe, isn't it? The fabulous Nola Norton was Chuck's girl Friday only six months ago. You know, he used to lock himself in so she couldn't get his coffee. I finally had to give her a key. You had a key, Nola? That's right. You know how troublesome Chuck could be? You know something, Penwoman? Chuck called up the night he died and said he was firing you. How interesting. He said he was firing you for his own protection. Now why any man would want protection from a dish like you? You know the police asked me exactly the same question? Yes, and what did you tell them? That Chuck never missed firing me every time he had a hangover. Now, if there are any other questions the police missed, it is a good time to ask them. It will be a long time before I go slumming again. Nola, Drake didn't mean anything. He's always had the idea. He should have been a detective. Drake hasn't had an idea in 20 years. The wine is running out, Paul, and so am I. Last week I let a misspelled comma slip through and Mack is on my neck. Thanks for the party. Let's not do it again. Well, I'll truncate him along, too, Paul. The building inspectors were by again today and got me all upset. Nothing ever suits them. Why not try a coat of paint? Might be worth the cost. Stop it, Nola. You don't have to go. But it's all right, Paul. Is everybody walking out on me? Janet? I'm sorry, Paul. I haven't any studio cars. I'll call you tomorrow, darling. I'm tempted to stay alone at last, Paul, dear, but it's... Seems to have a hollow sound, doesn't it? Doesn't? The party was all stayed. Good try, Paul, but it didn't work. You killed Chuck, didn't you, Nola? Pushed him off the balcony so his column would be all yours. Egan Drake thinks you did it. So Chuck's play would be all yours. Mrs. Dyson knows you had a key to the apartment. Oh, she knows you did, too, though. But the man in the liquor store knows who the lady is that bought Chuck's brand of scotch that night. I imagine a lot of people bought Chuck's brand of scotch that night. But you did kill Chuck, didn't you, Nola? You think I'd admit it if I had? Why don't you quit playing detective? Stop trying to convince yourself I killed Chuck. Paul, you added a couple of coincidences. Circumstantial evidence is bad. It isn't all circumstantial, Nola. Recognize it? I found Chuck. Remember, Nola? And I found this caught on that gray sweater he was wearing when he was killed. Did you have three emerald earrings, Nola? That is mine. I have my earrings. I'm wearing them. It may take time to find a jeweler who made you an exact duplicate of the one you lost. But I have time. And the police have time. I'm not afraid of the police, Paul. You should be, though. You've withheld evidence. That earrings. And more than that, if you really want to play that way, I'll say that... I'll say that you stole one of my earrings shortly before Chuck was killed, and that's why I had a duplicate made. It'll never work, Nola. Oh, it's a standoff. We both had a motive for killing Chuck. You forget it, Paul, there. I'm going now. I'll see you at the office. You know I'm not going to work for you. You'd better. Janet Kimber's going to bypass me, dear. You need something to save your time. I'd be glad to do that. There's so much you don't know, Nola. Janet and I have been married for three months. I could have believed it. You couldn't have married her. Oh, but I did. The only reason I'm living alone here is because we decided to keep it a secret for a while. To help Janet's career. Oh. How the two of you must have laughed at me. Well, I'm laughing now, Paul, and I'll keep laughing all the time you're in prison. I'll take that earrings, Paul, and Nola and I'll find it this time. Nola, give me that earrings. Wait. What are you doing? I'm telling the world. You tried to kill me like you killed Chuck. Oh, wait. You can't... Can't I through these flimsy doors? Heather quickly, the stunned and the curious, someone hurriedly turned on the garage floodlights, and the area suddenly became bright and unreal, as a man removed a small, brilliant object from the dead person's hand. Single, emerald earring. Oh, my. Oh, my. I can't assume if I could. What's happened? It was Nola, Mrs. Geisler. I tried to warn her, but she was determined to go out on the balcony. Oh, Paul. But the French doors, surely you can... They were locked. Nola pushed them open, and before I could stop her, she fell right through the scaffolding where the old balcony used to be. Oh, Paul. Paul. Wait. I thought everyone knew that the building inspector condemned the old balcony. In fact, we saw building this new one. I guess Nola was the only one of my guests who didn't know Mrs. Geisler. Oh, what are we going to do? There's nothing we can do now, Mrs. Geisler. Except call the police and report another... accident. The whiffler whose train story you have just heard will be back next week with another tale from his never-ending file. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education.