 And now, stay tuned for the program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil program, The Whistler. Signal, the famous Go Farther Gasoline, invites you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by 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. And now for the Signal Oil company, The Whistler's strange story, The Wall. On the edge of Cartertown, a small aging community in Northern California, stands the equally aging structure known as Channing House. The house proper with its wide, high surrounding wall and flanking trees has been the subject of many abutting artists' brush and oils. Jeffrey Channing interrupts his morning strolls through the grounds to listen to the conversation of the latest artist at work on a canvas of Channing House. A girl, slender, young and attractive, talking with a young male companion. Both are too absorbed in work and conversation to notice Jeffrey. But Jeffrey is deeply interested in what is being said. Well, if you think the place is differently, you should see the inside. Oh, I'm quite satisfied here, Ned. The old house is a perfect subject. Old Hypatia Channing is something of a subject herself. At least she's a character, always having the place worked over, remodeling, changing. I've heard. So rare day indeed when one doesn't hear the sound of the hammer and saw coming from the house. It's been going on for five years, ever since the Colonel died. The old girl really keeps Sam on the jump. Sam? Who's he? Caretaker, Jack of all trades. Been with the Channing family for years. You see that small cottage back there? Mm-hmm. That's his. Uh, Mrs. Channing. Does she live in the Big House alone, Ned? No, there's her nephew, Jeffrey. A friend of mine, by the way, really devoted to the old girl. Stays pretty close. Does his best to keep her from brooding. Well, about the Colonel, you mean? Mm-hmm. Personally, I think it's a lot of bunk. I mean that Hypatia hasn't a great concern. I share the opinion of most people in Cartertown. That she was glad the Colonel died. Ned, you're a confirmed cynic. Well, could be. Anyway, she keeps up a pretty good pretense. All this carpentering claims to want the hammer and saw going because it reminds her of the Colonel. Keeps him alive in her heart. He was always puttering around the place, you know, building one thing and another. Well, he built a rare old house. And I could hug him for it. Hello, Ned. Oh, Jeffrey, you're going to order us off the property? Oh, not if I can win an introduction by allowing you to stay. Certainly. Miss Munson, Jeffrey Channing. How do you do? Have you been standing there long, Mr. Channing? Not due. Why? I'm afraid Ned's conscience is bothering him. He's been venturing opinions about the occupants of Channing House. My conscience doesn't bother me at all, Leah. Jeffrey knows what people think. Yes, I'm afraid he's right, Miss Munson. I know just what they think. That anti-patia isn't at all interested in keeping the Colonel's memory alive. That she takes a fiendish pleasure in knocking down everything the Colonel put up. Oh, now I've never gone quite that far, Jeff. People have, Ned. It's no matter. If you're an artist, Miss Munson, you must see the inside of Channing House sometime. Quite picturesque. You'd enjoy it. Oh, I would. I really would. We'll arrange it soon. Good morning. Good morning, Mr. Channing. You turn, Jeffrey, walk away along the path to the house. An attractive, exciting girl, isn't she? And you tell yourself that you do want to see her again soon. Suddenly, an odd sound reaches you. Not the sound of carpentry as a Jeffrey. No, the dull, frightening sound of a pick striking against stone. You break into a run. Finally, as you enter the garden, you slow down and stare with an expression of relief on your face as you catch sight of Sam, the man of all work. He's only tearing down the old fountain, not the wall. And there's no cause for alarm at all. You continue along the walk, and then enter the house. Jeffrey? Oh, good morning, Aunt Arpecia. Didn't keep you waiting, did I? No. I stepped late this morning. Breakfast is ready. Do sit down. Thank you. Out for your usual morning stroll? Met a friend from town. He brought an artist out. I promised her a look inside. Oh, Jeffrey, I wish you hadn't. Oh, now what harm could come? Please. I don't want gawking curiosity seekers wandering through the house. The memory is here. They're too sacred. Uh, yes. All right, Aunt Arpecia. Pass the marmalade, will you? Very decent of you to understand about my aunt, Miss Munson. She can be quite stubborn. Oh, she is being stubborn. She's entitled to privacy with her memories. Uh, how did her husband, the Colonel, die? Why, it was an accident. He was with me a fishing trip. We were out further than we should have been. A squall came up. Capsized our boat. He was drawn? That's right. I guess I've always held myself to blame in a way. I suppose that's why I lean over backwards to make things easier for Aunt Arpecia. Hello! Hello! Oh, it's Ned. I've been looking all over for you, Lea. Jeffrey, uh, that is, Mr. Channing just happened by. He was kind enough to show me the garden. By the way, Jeff, when's the old girl going to have the big wall around the place torn down? The wall? Well, she's torn down everything else. I'd rather hope you won't go that far, Ned. Quite a project, I'd say. My, I've never seen a wall so thick. So massive. Don't be fooled, Lea. It isn't as impressive as it looks. The wall's hollow, right, Jeff? Yes. Yes, it is. I helped Jeff and the Colonel put it up. Remember, Jeff? Matter of fact, you finished it up alone, didn't you? Not long after the old fella died. That's right. I've finished the wall... alone. You want to scream the words, don't you, Jeffrey? Because the wall has been on your mind so much the past five years. Yes, it's hollow, isn't it? And it's one landmark you'll do everything in your power to prevent your ant from destroying. That's because of what the hollow wall contains. Colonel Channing didn't perish at sea, did he, Jeffrey? No. You killed him in a blind rage. And in the dead of night, you placed his body inside the wall, sealed it up. Then you invented the story of the drowning at sea, and everyone believed it. Everyone that is with one possible exception. You've often wondered about Aunt Hypatia, haven't you, Jeffrey? Wondered if she suspected you, what you'd done. And if that's the reason perhaps why she's constantly having the house remodeled. A good excuse to cover up her search. What is it yet? Mr. Channing? Are you all right? He's dazed, Leah. Over you, I'd say. Just call him Jeffrey. He'll be all right. Yes. Yes, I'll be all right, Leah. I don't blame you. I've got something else to think about, haven't you, Jeffrey? Something beside Aunt Hypatia and this old house. Yes, men. I do have something else to think about. Do you wish you had a new car? Then here's a tip. The next best thing to a spanking new car is a car of any age powered with Signal Ethol Gasoline. Yes, Signal's premium quality gasoline is a motor fuel scientifically engineered to bring out the best in any car. And when I say best, I mean the kind of performance many drivers never thought their cars were capable of. I mean starting that has your motor humming the instant you touch the starter. I mean pickup, the kind that carries with it that satisfying feeling when the back of the seat nudges you gently forward, reminding you what thrilling pep your accelerator foot commands. And I mean power that erases knocks as easily as it erases hills, hills that used to call for shifting. Don't get the idea, of course, that Signal Ethol's going to let you step away from all new cars. After all, smart new car drivers use Signal Ethol, too, to bring out all the exciting performance that's built into today's power-packed high-compression motors. But of this you can be sure. The next best thing to a new car is your car powered with Signal Ethol gasoline. It's been five years, hasn't it, Jeffrey? Five years since you killed old Colonel Channing. It is body of Mahalo Wall surrounding Channing House. And you've never been able to leave to stay away for any length of time because of your aunt, Hypatia Channing. And her constant remodeling is a threat to your safety. If she ever wanted to have the wall torn down, your five-year-old story of the fishing accident, the Colonel's death by drowning would be proved a terrible, desperate lie. And that lie would send you to the gas chamber. You wonder now on the days that follow what you can do about it. Because you know that your interest in Leah Munson, the attractive young artist, is more than a passing one. Each day you meet outside the garden, walk together, talk. And she seems to be growing more fond of you day by day. Oh, Jeffrey, I don't know when I'm ever going to finish my painting. You won't let me work. Oh, perhaps I don't want you to finish, Leah. I don't understand. Don't you? Really? Well, I... Leah, you must know that I... that I don't want to see you leave Cartertown. But I must leave someday. Why? Jeffrey, I've got a career to think about. I've painted nearly everything here that interests me. Leah, surely you know that... that I'm in love with you. I don't want you to leave, ever. Jeffrey. Leah. Why did your wife leave? My wife? Oh, oh, you know about Stell. Yes, what happened to you and... Ned told you, I suppose, he talks too much. No, Jeff. Well, the Colonel, he didn't like Stell. He was against my marrying her. But you married her anyway after his death. Yet you lost her, just the same. I wanted to lose her then, Leah. I believe you. Jeffrey. Yes? Jeff, there's nothing to hold you here now, except your antipacea, is there? Why do you ask? You want me to stay and I want you, but I could never stay here long. All my plans, my work, I have to go abroad soon to study new techniques. And I want you to, and I want to go with you. Do you, Jeffrey? Or more to the point, can you? What do you mean? I don't know. I've sensed something. Well, like something holding you here, something I don't understand, something I'm afraid of. You needn't need it because it isn't true. There's nothing I tell you. I can go anywhere I like, anytime. And I will, Leah. I will. You've made up your mind, haven't you, Jeffrey? You've got to free yourself of Channing House. And it must be done soon or you'll lose Leah. It's going to take a lot of thinking, isn't it? In one evening you're in the library sitting across the chess table from your aunt. That wasn't a very smart move, you know. Look. You see? Yes, I see, Aunt Apecia. You just haven't got your mind on the game, that's all. I'm afraid not. It's that girl, isn't it? Leah Munson. Why don't you bring her here? I'd like to meet her. I wanted to bring her around a long time ago, but you said... Never mind what I said. Ask her for tea tomorrow. Well, I... Excuse me, Mrs. Channing. Oh, Sam. Come in, come in. Got the estimate test for Mrs. Channing. Good, good. Got them all written down in this here piece of paper. Let me see, Sam. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Jenkins gave us the better price. Yes, I was sure he would. I'll call him in the morning and give him the order. Yes, ma'am. I'll go ahead then. Of course. Get started on it first thing in the morning. Night. Good night. Let me see now. Where were we? What is it this time, anti-patia? Sam's going to start tearing down the old wall first thing in the morning. Well, Jeffrey, go ahead. It's your move. It's happened at last, hasn't it, Jeffrey? The wall and anti-patia is going to have it torn down. And the secret that has remained hidden within it will be revealed. Somehow you manage to finish out the game of chess and then hurry up to your room. You paste the floor well into the early morning hours, wondering what to do, how you can stop her. Dawn finds you stretched out on the bed, still fully closed, staring at the ceiling. And then suddenly you're aware of a sound outside. You leap out of bed and hurry to the window. Rain. It's rain. Good morning, anti-patia. It's a miserable morning. Absolutely miserable. I do so to test rain. It's so depressing. Oh, I don't know. I rather like it. You look rather tired this morning. Didn't you sleep well? No matter. In fact, I got very little sleep at all. Oh, it's the rainy weather. We're in for a few more days of it, according to the paper. I'll let you have some of my sleeping powders, Jeffrey. Well, if you don't mind anti-patia, I'd rather you didn't. Nonsense. I'll put them on your night table. I suppose the sudden change in weather has altered your plans about the wall? Yes. But I'll get around to it as soon as the rain's over. I've made up my mind to that, Jeffrey. Yes. I'm sure you have. Yes, Jeffrey. As soon as the storm is over, your aunt will have Sam begin tearing down the wall. It continues to rain all that day and the next. It gives you time to think things out, decide what you must do. And through it all, Sam is an idol. Your aunt has put him to work on the staircase. And the sound of the hammer and saw echoes throughout the house from morning till night. Then on the fourth day, the storm's still raging outside. You've made up your mind. Know for certain what you must do. But just how you're going to do it isn't quite clear, is it? No. That is until late in the evening. You're alone in the study mixing a drink when your aunt enters. There you are, Jeffrey. I wondered where you'd gone to. Well, you and Sam had your heads together in the library and I didn't want to disturb you. Making plans for the salt and the wall, were you? No. As a matter of fact, we didn't discuss it at all. When Sam's going to finish up with the stairway, quit rather suddenly this afternoon. I had something more important for him to do. Well, I'm rather tired of having to pick my way through all that lumber, those loose steps and bits of torn carpeting every time I go up and down the stairs. You'll finish up in the morning. What are you doing, dear? Fixing a drink, buttered rum. Just the thing for a rainy evening. Buttered rum? Sounds rather nice. You want one? Yes. I'd like to try it. I don't know why the idea didn't occur to me before. Perhaps that's what I need. Then I could throw away my sleeping powders. Yes. Yes, that's right. You probably could. You'd like that, wouldn't you, dear? You know I never really approved of your taking sleeping powders. Neither did anyone else. Well, accidents do happen. Nonsense. No. About that hot buttered rum. Well, I'll have to eat some more water. Why don't you run on up to your room? I'll bring it up to you. Would you? That would be nice, Jeffrey. Very nice. You stand there staring after her as she leaves the study. The way has suddenly become clear, Jeffrey. It's perfect, isn't it? All your aunt's friends are well aware of the fact that she takes sleeping powders. All have cautioned her about it. A few minutes later, you hurry upstairs with her drink in your hand. Step inside your room. There on the nightstand where she placed them a few days ago. The sleeping powders. You quickly empty all of them into the cup and cross the hall and go into her room. You find her sitting in the big, easy chair by the window. Are you not going to turn in yet? No. I thought I'd sit up a while. Read a bit. Oh. Oh, here's your buttered rum, Aunt Apecia. What a delightful aroma. Better drink it while it's hot. Of course, Jeffrey. Good night, Aunt Apecia. And sleep tight. Back in the study downstairs, you sip your drink, make another. An hour goes by and the house is still. You sit there listening to the storm outside. And then you hear something else. A car stopping in front of the house. You step to the window, peer into the darkness. And as you do, you whirl and race into the entry hall. Aunt Apecia. She's lying in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Aunt Apecia? Yes, she's dead, isn't she, Jeffrey? The fall killed her instantly. You must have tripped over a loose board on the stairway. An accident, Jeffrey. And you had no part in it. Or did you? You've got to make certain. The cup of buttered rum with the deadly sleeping powders you fixed for your aunt is on the nightstand next to her bed. But you see, she hasn't touched it. You sigh with relief. Your aunt's death really was accidental. And then you pick up the cup. The sound of the bell startled you. The cup slips from your fingers, spills the drink over the pillow on the bed. A dark stain begins to spread slowly over the pillowcase. With your aunt killed accidentally by a fall down the stairway, this could ruin things for you, couldn't it, Jeffrey? You can't afford to have any trace of the deadly rum and sleeping powders found. Quickly, you pick up the stained pillow and hurry back to your room. You pull out one of the drawers in the old bureau in the closet. Stuff the pillow inside, far to the back. Close the drawer. Judge Fuller. Oh, I'm glad you're here. Come in, come in. Hi, Jeffrey. What's the matter with you? Antipatia. Look, over there. Oh, good heavens. What happened? I don't know. I found her just now and I came down to answer the door. She's dead, Jeffrey. Yes, I know. She must have been coming down to answer your ring when she fell. She must have tripped over a loose step. Sam's been working on the stairs for the last few days. Yes. Yes, I see. Jeffrey, I think we'd best call the police. The police? Well, yes. An accident, of course, but they'll have to be notified. Oh. Yes, of course. Well, Sheriff, what do you think? Well, there's no doubt about it, I'd say. Well, that's the way it happened, all right. Mrs. Channing tripped over those loose boards up there. Poor Antipatia. I'm real sorry about this, Jeff. Real sorry. It's a great loss, my boy, for all of us. Oh, by the way, Judge, what were you doing here tonight? Mrs. Channing wanted to see me. As you know, I've been her attorney for years. She sent Sam around in the car to pick me up. You know what was on her mind? When she called, she said she wanted to discuss the financial matter, but she didn't say what it was. She did make quite a point of my being here at 11. Well, that's odd. When she went upstairs, I thought she was going to retire for the night. Well, perhaps you did, my boy. I don't know that she considered our appointment a secret, but I can assure you that she had no idea of going to sleep when she called me this evening. I don't quite understand. Well, it's certainly not important now, Jerry. No. No, I suppose not. Can I be of any help to you, Sheriff? No, Judge, I don't think so. Oh, Jeffrey, I guess I don't have any more questions to ask you, either. Now, as far as I'm concerned, your aunt's death was accidental. Purely accidental. If you've ever tried to drive your car with even one spark plug missing, you know what a big difference some little things can make. That's why the quality accessories which signal dealers carry can be mighty important to your car's performance. For instance, if it has been 10,000 miles since your spark plugs were replaced, a new set of Champion spark plugs installed by your signal dealer will not only increase pep and power, but save up to 10% on gasoline, too. Another item which should be checked periodically for replacement is your oil filter cartridge, and signal dealers feature famous Purellator brand. If a worn windshield wiper is leaving dangerous streaks across your vision, your signal dealer can install a patented Clearflex Rainmaster wiper blade while you wait. And other quality accessories he carries include guaranteed signal batteries, fan belts and radiator hose, light bulbs, whiz polishes, and nationally advertised Lee tires. So remember, in addition to being headquarters for the famous Go Farther gasoline, signal dealers carry most everything you need in the way of accessories. To make your car run better, look better, and last longer. It's all over now, isn't it, Jeffrey? Antipatia is death, an accidental death, and in the Sheriff's own words, you had absolutely nothing to do with it. You're no longer a prisoner in Channing House. Now you're free to marry Leah Munson. Go wherever you please, aren't you? Sitting now in the study, the judge with you, you can hear the Sheriff and his men moving about in the hall outside. Presently, the study door opens and the Sheriff moves into the room. Jeff? Yes, Sheriff? I've been having a rather interesting conversation with your caretaker, Sam Lewis. He seems to think your aunt's death wasn't accidental. What? What's that? He thinks she was pushed down the stairs, and that you did it. I? I pushed? Not really, Sheriff. Why would I want to do a thing like that? For the money? The $50,000 Sam found hidden in the stairway this afternoon. $50,000? In the stairway? Uh-huh. Sam turned it over to your aunt, Mrs. Channing, right after he found it. That's probably why she phoned me to come over this evening. Well, judge, she said nothing to me. Look, Sheriff, I swear I... According to Sam, Mrs. Channing told him the Colonel had hidden a large sum of money somewhere in the house a short time before he died. It seems the Colonel never got around to telling her where he'd hidden it. That's why she's been having the house torn apart the past five years, looking for it. You didn't know about that, huh? Sheriff... Sheriff, you've got to believe me. I didn't know. Sam seems to think you did, and so did Mrs. Channing. She told Sam she was sure that was the only reason you'd been sticking around so close these past five years, waiting for them to find the money so you could get your hands on it. And it looks like she was right. What do you mean by that? We just found something, Jeff. Something I'm sure will convince any jury that you killed your aunt. Me? Kill Aunt Hypatia? No! I'm going to have to arrest you, Jeff. We found the money Sam turned over to your aunt. But I didn't... Oh, yes, you did. We found the whole $50,000 right where you put it, stuffed in the back of a bureau drawer in your bedroom closet, hidden in your Aunt Hypatia's pillow. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program The Whistler each Sunday night at this same time. For men over 17 who are eligible for military duty, here's a reminder from the National Guard. If you want to be sure of staying with buddies from your own hometown, train with your local National Guard unit. For more information, inquire at nearest National Guard headquarters. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Don Randolph, Jean Tatum, and Norma Varden. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Adrian John Doe, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is 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 at this same time next Sunday, another strange tale by the Whistler. This is Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.