 and 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. Tonight, it's the whistler's strange stories, the big prism. To John Emerson, it was more than a nightmare. The sound, the images flashing across the black background of his mind were too real, too terrifying. At first, nothing was clear to him, but gradually he seemed to be back in Ketchikan Alastair. His mind going over and over that first chance meeting with Willard Crosston, pompous, jovial, boring Willard Crosston. There was a long, tiresome trip to Crosston's lodge. The days, the weeks wasted looking for game that just wasn't there. And always Crosston, with his foolish jokes and his guns, shoving another highball into your hands, and another. Then suddenly in a rush it all comes back to you, like acid in night for glycerin. The memory of those last wild moments at the lodge explodes in your mind. All right, Crosston, all right. I've had enough. Do you hear me? I'll see you here at Emerson. I picked you up in Ketchikan and brought you here because I thought you'd be a good company. But if you think I'm going to pay you a passage all the way back to the States. That's exactly what I think. I've listened to your silly chatter for a month. Now I'm going to get out of Alaska, even if I have to. Oh, no, no, no. No, no, John. You've been drinking too much. Your fingerprints will be all over that gun. John, put it out. Put the gun down. Then it's gone in a red flash, the nightmare, the vision, the spinning, dizzy sick feeling. You open your eyes and you know it's all real. You discover yourself lying fully closed on a bed in a hotel room, with the morning sun streaming in the window. But before complete panic can overtake you, you're stopped by the sound of voices. Real words from real people coming in over the open sand. I told you, Joe, the telegrams addressed to Willard Crofton. I'm telling you who he's still asleep. I'm not going to wake him up until it's almost time for his train. But the wires mark the liver personal and we're supposed to look. Now look, I deliver it personally when he wakes up. What difference does it make? Don't ask me. I don't make the rules. You're sure it's Mr. Crofton in there? Sure it is. I've never seen the guy, but he came in drunk late last night. Well, I got an idea. Let's look at the register. No, I won't do any good. He was too stiff to hold a pen in his hand. Something really had the guy going. You know, maybe to be sure, I ought to go on after that guy's fundamentalizing. If this is the wrong guy out here... No, no. Why make the trip for nothing? He bought his car. Go out and check the registration. Then if it is Crofton, leave the wire with me and I'll deliver it for you as soon as he wakes up. You're on your feet now, Tom. Peeping it all together. Weaving dizzily over to the dresser. Wasting of what you see in the mirror. Then your eyes drop down and you grow tense at what you see. Green backs all over the place. Crofton's wallet, his papers, his railroad and steamer tickets. Well, it's Crofton's car, all right, Joe. Didn't I tell you? I'll just leave the rest to me. Son of a gun, I don't know that... The telegram still says deliver personal to Willard Crofton. Okay. All right, be a chap if you want to. Go on, go on. Make the trip all the way out to the lodge. You cling to the edge of the dresser for the first time the full realization hits you. If that messenger goes out to the lodge, you know what he'll find, John. Crofton dead on the floor. And a dozen wide open clues pointing straight at you. You begin to think clearly and rapidly. What you need is time. Time to get out of Alaska before the body is discovered. And there's one way to do it. One way that Crofton's lodge might go undisturbed until spring. You tempt yourself and take the plunge. Someone out there looking for Crofton? Oh, yes. Well, I'm Crofton. What is it? Oh, a telegram for you, Mr. Crofton. Mark, deliver personal. Okay, just a minute. Oh, yeah. Here's your telegram, sir. We're sorry to disturb you, sir, but we weren't sure you were Crofton. Well, what would be? I don't know, sir. It's 8.15, Mr. Crofton. Your train leaves at 9 sharp, you know. Yeah. Don't worry. I'll be on that train. It's new. It's big. It's different. It's exciting. Betty, what in the world are you doing? I'm practicing to be a radio announcer. I was just talking about our new radio show. Well, honey, do it this way, huh? Attention, everyone. Listen to the Betty Grable Harry James show, now being heard on the station. Okay, Mr. James, you said that real good. I'll be glad to listen. Thank you, Miss Grable. May I join you? Certainly. And that invitation goes for all of our friends. As a defender of freedom, America must continue to build up its armed strength, and the United States Army is rapidly expanding. With this expansion, more nurses are needed. If you are a registered nurse, volunteer for service with the Army Nurse Corps. There are immediate assignments in this country and overseas, and only qualified graduate nurses can fill them. Right or wire, the Surgeon General, United States Army, Washington, 25 D.C. And now back to the Whistler. Well, John, it's only now that the full force of addition between so many men have felt about the North in years gone by. For the guilty, Alaska is a gigantic prison where the only real avenue of escape to this house. The railroad, the Skagway, the sea lanes beyond. All carefully policed by watchful eyes. You have only one hope now to escape this Alaskan prison before Willard Crofton's body, with all the evidence pointing to you, is discovered. Going back to cover up would be too dangerous. And that means five terrible days traveling on Crofton's ticket. One by train to Skagway. Four by post to Vancouver. Five days in a trap that may be sprung at any moment. It's Crofton. The garage man is outside about the car. Oh, well, is it ready? Uh, ready? To be put up for the winter. Oh, oh, yes, tell him to go ahead. Oh, good. Oh, your baggage is in the lobby. Oh, yes, have it taken to the station, Willard. Oh, there you are. Thank you. How long is the train time? Oh, it's about 30 minutes. I'm a little tired. I guess I'll wait here until just before the train leaves. Yeah. How about some breakfast? No, I'm afraid there's not that much time. We might have lunch at Bennett anyway. I always do. Well, except to you. But knowing the White Pass and Yukon Railroad like I do, I'd never leave White Horse with an empty stomach. And somehow, by a miracle, it works, John. A last-minute dash to the train. The creepy ride the car caught. Then lunch at Bennett. And the dizzy, winding descent to the little village of Skagway, nestled under their glacier at the water's edge. You tell yourself the worst is over. Then there's no reason for anyone to go to Cross and Cattle. No reason why the body won't lie there, undisturbed until spring. Six long months away. You begin to relax in Skagway as you walk up to the steamship clerk to check your reservation. Okay, let's see it for this time. Time is about to leave. Tonight it's 7. Uh... Oh, well, Cross done. You remember me, Jim Carroll? I talked to you on the way up. You came in about three weeks ago, didn't you? Uh, yeah. Yeah, with another fella. Or, uh... I guess it was your pal I talked to. Yeah, it must have been. By the way, where is he? Uh, he...he decided to stay up there for a while. Oh, well, now that's funny. He told me he was due back in the States in a few weeks. Well, the guy can change his mind, can't he? Oh, sure, yeah. Pick up the ticket, will you? Oh, sure. I know why he's staying up there. Why, sure, I do. What do you mean? You're pardoned, Mr. Crofton. Didn't he let you know? My pardon? William. I got a reservation wire. He's there. He's due next Monday on the Nora. Going up to the lodge for a fling at the hunting racket himself. Oh, well, yeah, he sent me a wire about that. When does he get here? On Monday. He'll be up at your lodge by Tuesday night. Oh, you think he might change your plans, Mr. Crofton? No, no, no, no. One of us has to be on the job. What time do I get down to Vancouver? We're leaving tonight. You'll be there Monday around five in the afternoon. Okay, pick up the ticket. That sounds funny, won't it? That is very funny. You and your partner will pass each other on the way. The ship's the pass and the knife. Pick up the ticket, will you? I am in a hurry, and I... I'll see you, Mr. Crofton. I'll fix it for you. Well done. It's going to be a race now. It's a grim kind of a race. As you move southward on the Louise to Vancouver in freedom, as Crofton's partner comes north on the Princess Nora over the same route, bound for that cabin and the awful discovery that awaits him there. And if that happens before you reach Vancouver, John, if he arrives while you are still impersonating the dead man, one quick radiogram, and it'll be all over, a new John, the murderer of Willard Crofton, will be apprehended in a matter of minutes. On a ship of seas with no escape. Another part of it's over, John. The vessel moves out into Lynn Canal. The lights of Skagway repeat into the night. You leave your cabin, manage to have dinner alone, and then flip back out to the deck, find a chair and lean back to red for the first time in more than a day. You're tired now, terribly tired. And you're thankful for the darkness and the soothing splash of the water against the sides of the ship. And then... Well, Mr. Crofton, mind if I sit down? No, no, not that. That's the Crofton of Crofton Williams, isn't it? I saw your name on the passenger list. Quite a surprise. Yes, I've dealt with you people for some time now. Nearly 15 years. Well, I'm Dr. Prentice. I'll ask your medical mission. Oh, it's a real pleasure. No, I could tell you some stories about the things your medical supplies have done for us up here. They've done a lot of lives, Crofton. Fine. Oh, you won't excuse me. Better hurry if you want dinner. That's the last call. I don't believe I'll eat anything, thank you. I haven't been feeling too well. Oh, do you think? No, no. It's not just cold, I think, like temperature. If I took my own advice, I'd be in my safe room. You going to Vancouver? Yes. I have to get back to give my partner a chance for vacation. Good. Vacation. Well, that's what I need. You know, I really better turn in. Well, excuse me. Of course, doctor, it's nice to talk to you. Thanks, it was a pleasure meeting you at last after doing business all these years. I'll try to make dinner with you, Crofton. Right tomorrow evening. Fine, doctor, fine. Good night. But fortunately, the doctor keeps to his cabin for the next few days. And you're alone now at the rail of the Princess Louise as she slides into the doctor's kitchen. Oh, Stuart. Stuart? Yes. Yes, sir. How long do we tie up here and get to camp? About an hour. I think I'll go ashore. Stroll around a bit. Everybody does. Both both loads. All right. Both? Yes, sir. That's the Princess Nora there at the dock. Nora? It's Ron. She's headed right back where we came from. Anyone aboard you know? You've got plenty of time to see them. Oh, no. No, there isn't. Anyway, I've changed my mind. I'm going to stay aboard. The hour in Kepticam seems like 10 years, John. It's ironic, isn't it? You and Williams in the same town. Williams on his way north, where he'll find his partner murdered. You on your way south define freedom with a slim slight surprise, only a few hours still hitting the balance in your face. Then finally, the tension eases a little, and you stand at the stern rail of the Princess Louise. Watch the Nora back slowly out of the harbor, being away toward the north. James? It's strange, isn't it? Watching a boat move away like this? This is her lost, empty feeling. Oh, I didn't see him. It's like being separated from someone in his car. She wonders if you'll ever see them again. Yes, there's something like that. And that boat going where this one came from. Well, what can I say? In segue, I mean. Oh, didn't you just come aboard? Yes, this is the farthest north I've been. Well, it's much the same. There's not as many people. You live there? No, Vancouver. Oh. Seattle. You're not to be there? No, no, I don't. I come from a large family. We have relatives in Vancouver, too. You know anybody named Lockwood? Lockwood? As I say, I come from a large family. Oh, are you going inside? Yes, excuse me. It's the wind. My boat is safe with me. You're trembling inside as you hurry away, aren't you, John? Yes, because it suddenly came home to you. This girl from Seattle, she's someone you know. Someone who knows you. You're thankful for the darkness of the ship's rail. But now, in some pretence, you've got to remain in your state room for the next two days until the boat reaches Vancouver. Do it if you don't mind. I'd like my breakfast served here in my state room this morning. You're right, I say. Even on? Nothing serious. If you'd like the ship's docked in. No, no. I tell you it's nothing serious. I'm just playing safe. Yes, sir. I'll bring your breakfast right away. Yes? Your breakfast. Oh, come on in. Put it right there. Oh. Dr. Prentice. I told you it wasn't necessary. It was my idea, Mr. Cross. See here, Doctor. I'm not seriously ill. There's no need for it. No, Mr. Cross. That's what I'm here for. It's just like all the rest of them. You know, let me take your pulse. Might as well get your temperature, too. A sense of anger mixes with fear as the doctor stands over here. Above all, you can't have him meddling, telling you to get out on deck. As he turns away for a moment, you remember his first conversation, something about a touch of cold, a slight temperature. Your eye strikes the pot of hot coffee on the tray right next to your bed. And an idea comes to you that almost makes you laugh out loud. It's so simple, isn't it, John? To take the thermometer from your mouth, dip it for an instant in the coffee, and put it back before the doctor turns. And you know in advance what he'll say. Well, Mr. Cross, can you let me take a look? Hmm, 102. Mr. Cross, I'd say you should stay right in bed for a while. Nothing in serious? I don't think so. However, I'm glad I checked. Sorry, I was short with you, doctrine. Don't you worry. I'll stay right here till we dock. Defense bonds are my favorite way of saving. They make it easy to store up the nest egg for emergencies, and to help make your future dreams come true. And today defense bonds do something else. They help to make America financially stronger for our national defense. That's why it's important for all of us to buy defense bonds regularly. And the best way to buy them is the automatic way through payroll savings where you work or the bond a month plan where you bank. Friends, let me urge you to do your full share for America's defense by buying defense bonds. There's no finer investment in the world. Thank you, Lee Wiley. Folks, I want you to meet Betty Grable. Hello. Now, I want you to meet Harry James. Hi. Now that we've met, both of us. Mr. and Mrs. Harry James, that is. Yeah. Both of us hope you're listening to our radio show that is now being heard on the station. And if you're not, please tune us in for a sample, won't you? You know, we have fun with our music and chatter, and we think you'll have fun too. We'll be expecting you. Bye now. And now back to the whistler. Well, John, it's almost over. The nightmare from which you've never really awakened. It's a real frightening thing. This delicate schedule you've been forced to follow. Just 12 hours from now, the body of Willard Crosston will be discovered at his hunting lodge near Whitehall. And only moments later, the wires will be crackling with orders for your arrest as a murderer. But that's 12 hours from now, John. And long before that, you'll be off the ship miles out of Vancouver on your way to a safe hiding place. Yes, John, I'll ask you with a big prison, but you've escaped. In just a few minutes, you'll walk down the gangplank on schedule. Face and freeze. Yes, Stuart, come in. My baggage is up. Oh, doctor, look, it was nice of you to come again, but I told you it was feeling much better. He told me. It's the same. I thought I'd better take that temperature of yours again. But really, doctor? Oh, come now. It'll only take a moment. Why? I'm under the tongue. All right. That's it. Mouth shut. Sometimes I think that's the best part of being a doctor, telling people to keep their mouth shut and making them like it. Oh, better get that pulse, too. Not bad at all. A little rapid, but that could be nerve. All right. Let's have a look at that thermometer. Look, doctor, I was trying to tell you this is all foolishness. I'm feeling fine. Yeah. But what's the matter? Nothing. Quite the contrary. The temperature's normal again. And I don't mind telling you. I'm greatly relieved. Well, that's it. Relieved? That's right. Of course, with no temperature, you're free to go anywhere you like. Abort the ship. Abort the ship? Wait a minute. What are you talking about? Wait a minute. What are you getting at? Well, you really did it with that fever of yours. It made me suspicious. And I checked the number of the other passengers. Why? What about them? Too bad, but I'm afraid one of them picked up a case of smallpox somewhere in Alaska. Might as well ask me if it hadn't been for you. Now, we'll all be held in quarantine. Remain on the ship for the next 48 hours. Richard and tonight's story were Bill Foreman as the Whistler, Drew Merrill, Mary Lansing, Pat McGeehan, Jack Moyles, Howard McNeer, and Vic Parran. The Whistler, directed by Gordon T. Hughes, with music by Wilbur Hatch, is produced by Joel Malone and transmitted overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler was entirely fictional and all characters portrayed on the Whistler are also fictional. Any similarities of names or resemblances to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Harry? Yes, Betty? How many people are listening to our new radio show on the station? You mean the Betty Grable, Harry James show? Well, what else, dear? Well, I hope everyone's listening to the music and to the farm and to us. Well, just in case we've missed anyone, here's a special invitation from Betty Grable and Harry James to listen to our radio show every time it's on the air over the same radio station. The Whistler was transcribed from the CBS Radio Network.