 And now stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who is guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In the signal oil program, the Whistler. Signal, the famous Go-Farther gasoline. Invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by the Whistler. I'm 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. Hit and run. It was a quiet night for San Francisco, almost too quiet. The fog drifting in from the Pacific had hung lazily over the city's streets at first, then settled down heavily, thicker and thicker, blotting out everything. There was something ominous about it, even to an old San Franciscan like Hillary Gaines. And although he wouldn't admit it even to himself, he was wavering. Mildred's nervousness when he'd stopped by to pick her up made it worse. Here it was, he kept telling himself. The moment they'd both been waiting for, planning for, anticipating for so many months. The moment when she'd make the break with her husband once and for all. Pack her bag and go away with Hillary. Yet something felt wrong somewhere. Maybe it was the fog, the stillness. All right, Hillary, I guess we're ready. I put your bags in the bag, dear. Did you leave a note? Yes, he ought to be home in a minute. Oh, probably in a bar somewhere. Come on, let's go. Well, what's the matter? I don't know. Oh, now wait a minute, Mildred. I have a strange feeling. Somehow, I'm afraid, Hillary. Don't be ridiculous. Afraid of what? It's just it. I don't know. Well, neither do I. Come on, get in. Darling, it's just nerves. You're excited. I don't know. I keep feeling something's going to happen. Well, something has happened. You've left that no-good husband of yours. You've played nursemaid for six years and now it's over. Yes, it's over. And what a way to end it. Sneaking off like this, leaving a note on the dining room table. What's wrong with that? I might have been more aboveboard. Oh, forget it. Mildred, you don't owe him a thing. No, I guess I don't. But maybe I should have had it out with him. Told him I was leaving and wanted a divorce. Oh. Hillary, do you think we're doing the right thing? Oh, for the love of Mike. Mildred, we've had this out a dozen times. Now, I don't want to go over it all again. I'm sorry, dear. I'm sorry. I just didn't know I was going to feel like this. You're still not sure, huh? No. Okay. You're not sure you want to go through with it? If you want to go back to that no-good heel, I'll take you back. No, no, no, Hillary. I don't want to. Well, then what do you want? Can't we do it some other way? As long as you don't know what you want, I... You're going back? I'm going to take you back. And if there ever is a next time, make sure you know what you want. Oh, this blasted fog. I can't see it. Slow down, Hillary. What time is it? Um, five to seven. What time's your husband get home? Seven, usually. All right. We might make it. Now that you're going back, I just as soon as he didn't see that note. He's probably home by now. I know it. Oh, Hillary. Look out, that man. Oh, move it. Hillary, it's over here. Hey. Mildred. Mildred, it's... It's your husband. Tommy. Oh, Tommy. Get into a hospital. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. He's dead. I told you. I told you there was something wrong. Oh, it's my fault, Hillary. It's my fault. Mildred. We should never have done this. Ow! Quiet. Listen, Mildred, there's nothing we can do for him now. We've got to get out of here. What? People know about us, Mildred. They'll never believe it was an accident. They'll say we killed him on purpose. Come on, I'm going to take you home. Last Monday, on New Year's Day, practically all cars aged a whole year. Yep, even those shiny 1950s are now last year's models. But the important thing is not a car's age, but how well it runs. Why many of you who own vintage models are today enjoying better performance than you did a year or five years ago. You are, if you're powering your cars with Signal Ethel, the premium grade of Signal's famous Go Farther gasoline. After all, Signal Ethel is engineered to bring out the best in any car of any age. And when I say best, I mean best starting, trigger quick on cold mornings. I mean best pickup that apologizes to no one when the traffic signal says go. And I mean best power that rockets you over our king-size western hills in high without balking or pinging. Who worries what year a car was made when you're enjoying driving like that. And you can enjoy it if you just head for a signal station. See if your car doesn't feel younger, much younger, when you treat it to a tank full of Signal Ethel. So you made a decision, didn't you, Hillary? You had a choice and you made it. You figure it's far safer to take a chance on getting caught on a hit-and-run charge. Then it would be to face the police and the prying neighbors and try to explain that it was pure coincidence that caused you to run down Tommy Hardwick a few blocks from his home. Pure coincidence that you happen to be riding with his wife, Mildred, at the time. Yes, it flashes through your mind during the few seconds you and she stand there in the fog, looking down at him. And you think it over carefully as you drive her back to her home. You better sit down a minute, Mildred. Did it really happen, Hillary? Did we do it? Is it dead? I'll take it easy there. It's gonna be all right. It doesn't seem real. The fog and the silence looking down at him lying in the street. Oh, Hillary. Mildred. Hillary, I can't help it. What have we done? Now listen to me, Mildred. We've got to talk. I can't. I can't think about it anymore. I said listen to me. Please, Hillary. Please don't. Oh, I know. I'm sorry. But darling, you may as well face it. There's only one way out. Somebody may have seen it. No one saw us. Now listen. We've got to play it straight. What? Here's what you've got to do. Robinson Finance Company, please. Hello? I'd like to speak to Mr. Hardwick, please. This is his wife. He's gone? When did he leave? But that's two hours ago. I don't understand. All right. Thank you. But you see, I thought Mr. Hardwick might have stopped off at the club on his way home. He's over an hour late now and he hasn't telephone. When did you last see him, Ed? But he's never been this late before. I've had dinner ready for an hour. Well, maybe I better, Ed. I'm worried sick. Is something wrong? Mind if I come in? No, no. What is it, Mr. Nolan? I've got a tough job, Mrs. Hardwick. Sometimes I think I ought to be in the haberdashery business or something. Did you come here to tell me that? No. I came to tell you that... It's Tommy, isn't it? Yeah. Something's happened to him. Can you take it? Tell me. He was killed tonight by a hit-and-run driver. Killed? Yeah, a man and a woman. What? I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardwick. Believe me, I'm not going to rest until we hook those two and throw the book at him. Did you say a man and a woman? Yeah, in a club coop, we think. Happened about eight blocks from here. They ran into him in the fog, stopped, got out and looked him over and then got back in the car and drove away. Someone saw them? Yeah, two people saw them. A lady in the apartment in the corner heard the crash and saw them out of a window. Couldn't tell much in the fog, but she gave her something to go on anyway. What about the other one? That's what makes us think there's something haywire somewhere. A lady in the corner apartment saw the car that hit her husband pull up alongside a parked car. Two people got out, ran back, checked the body and then drove off. Ten seconds later, the lights in the parked car go on and it drives off too. It surprised me too. Our prize witness was still sitting in that parked car all the time and he hasn't showed up yet. But don't worry, Mrs. Hardwick. There isn't much we can do about your husband, but we're sure going to nail that guy and his girlfriend. Well, we'll make the in-quest business as easy as possible for you. I'll call you tomorrow. Thank you, Mr. Nolan. Okay, I know how you feel. If I were you, I'd call up a friend or something. It's a bum time to be alone. Thank you. Good night, Mrs. Hardwick. Good night. Hillary, Hillary! The street was wet. They probably got tire tracks. I'm sure they know everything. Now, wait a minute, wait a minute. That woman in the apartment, she couldn't have seen much in the park. What about that? Yeah, yeah, I know. The guy in the parked car. How will we ever find him? Don't worry about that, baby. He's probably going to find us. Yes, Hillary, the man in the parked car is a problem, isn't he? It's obvious he saw everything. He was close enough to even see your license number in the fog. Close enough to hear what you and Mildred said to each other before you drove off. For the next day or two, you can feel the sword hanging over you. But strangely enough, nothing happens. The inquest goes off without a hitch. The woman in the apartment offers nothing in addition to her original statement. You have the dent in your fender repaired by four second-hand tires and dispose of the ones on your car. A few more days pass and you begin to relax a little. Perhaps the man in the parked car has reasons for keeping out of it, being involved as a material witness. Yes, maybe that's it. Then a week later, you're sitting at your desk at the office when... Yes? There's a Mr. Baldwin to see you, Mr. Gaines. Baldwin? I don't know anyone by that name. What does he want? He says it's about insurance. Oh, well, tell him I have plenty of insurance. I did. He says it's extremely important. Confounded? I just told... Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What kind of insurance? Just a moment. Accident insurance, Mr. Gaines. I see. Send him in. Gaines, I realize you're a busy man. Sit down. Oh, thank you. I'll set you straight, Mr. Baldwin. I'm already insured to the hilt. My lawyer advises me I'm covered for all possible contingencies. Of course, of course. My card, Mr. Gaines. I've been connected for some years with the valley indemnity, most reliable company. I see. And in addition to the coverage the company offers, I do a little underwriting on the side. You see, although the insurance business is one of our oldest and most venerable professions, we have yet to devise a policy which covers all risks. What do you mean by that? The human factor, Mr. Gaines, is one that no one has ever been able to reduce to statistics. And consequently is a risk no company can afford to undo. Please, be specific. Well, you are obviously a man under pressure, Mr. Gaines. I dare say you're in need of the type of coverage I'm offering at this very moment. You see, I'll protect you from loss, resulting from, shall we say, hasty and unwise decisions. See here, I had quite... Just a moment, Mr. Gaines. To be specific, the decision you and Mrs. Hardwick made the other night at 15th and Maple Streets. I happened to be there at the time, and I said to myself, now there is a man who needs insurance. I see. What about the premium? I thought you'd understand. Of course, I'll write up our customary public liability policy. That doesn't amount very much. But the premiums on the other coverage run rather high, Mr. Gaines. I expect they do. Shall we say, an even 500 for full coverage. And how long does the coverage last? I've been thinking for some time about changing my connections. They tell me there are lots of opportunities in South America. When are you leaving? Very soon, I hope. So do I. All right, Mr. Baldwin, I'll buy you a policy. And I hope you're not kidding about South America. How much do you want this time? $2,000. I won't pay it. You would pay it, however, if you had my assurance that this is the last time. I expect I would. Very well, you have my word. I'll drop by this afternoon for the cash. Now, an oil well is one of the most profitable of investments, Mr. Gaines. And I'm sure you'll find this venture a wise one. When you consider the future, of course. Oh, by the way, I expect to be leaving next week. $2,300. Congratulations, Mr. Gaines. You are part owner of the Narcissus mine. It's too bad in a way that I've had to postpone my trip to South America until Friday. You dirty leech, get out of my office. Now, now, wait a moment, Mr. Gaines. I'll kill you! I knew you'd come to that eventually, so I've made provision for it. You see, I've written a complete account of your and Milbert Hardwick's unfortunate accident at 15th and Maple Speeds to be opened and read publicly in the event of my death. You've thought of everything, haven't you? I'm pleased to think so. Now, I think it would be rather unwise for you to make another unfortunate decision, don't you? Especially in view of my projected trip to South America. You're helpless, aren't you, Hillary? There's no way out now. You change inwardly as things go on. What was anger and outrage have turned into fear. But Mr. Baldwin's periodic visits have made quite a dent in your assets, haven't they, Hillary? The day isn't far off when there'll be nothing left to pay him. If you could only get your hands on the account he's written about the hit-and-run accident, the protection he's provided for himself. Yes. You'd kill him if it weren't for that, wouldn't you, Hillary? Then at last you get a lucky break. I know where it is, Milbert. I found out where it is. What? The account he's written. The thing that's going to be open if he dies. Where is it? In a bank on Market Street. I saw him today and followed him. It's in a safe deposit box, I'm sure of it. What good does that do, Mr. Baldwin? Now, wait a minute. He keeps the key on him. I was standing in the crowd when he took it from his pocket into the gates. Hillary, you're not going... Never mind, Milbert. Let me make that decision. You've made that decision already, haven't you, Hillary? You've known for weeks that there was only one way out. And the moment you saw him walk into the safe deposit department in the bank on Market Street, you decided to take the chance. You follow him home a few days later. Note the garage where he keeps his car. Watch him as he walks the block and a half to his apartment on the other side of the street. That's important, isn't it, Hillary? He lives on the other side of the street from the garage. You were careful to notice he wasn't recognized at sight by the clerk at the bank and gathered that he hasn't been in the city long enough to be known. That fits too, doesn't it? So it's all planned carefully when he called you a few days later. First of all, Mr. Gaines, I want to impress on you that I have my reservation. I'm leaving Monday for South America. Yes, of course. There are a few matters I'd like to clear up before I leave. I must deliver your insurance policy, of course. And then there's the matter of the radium. Oh, it's radium this time, huh? Yes, an exploration company I've incorporated. I'm sure you'll want to invest a thousand or so, Mr. Gaines. I'll call on you sometime tonight. You will have the money. Yeah, I'll have the money, but look, if you don't mind, I'd rather call on you. Are you going to be home tonight? I expect to be home later in the evening. What time? About ten or so. Is there some reason for this, Mr. Gaines? Oh, yes, a very important one. I'll explain when I arrive. I see. You will be alone, of course. Of course I'll be alone. You don't think I want to advertise our little private transactions, do you? No, I'm sure you don't. Very well, Mr. Gaines. One marchway, apartment 308. That's fine, Baldwin. I'll be there. Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock. Yes, Hillary, it's all planned, isn't it? At nine o'clock, you're sitting in the coffee shop across the street from the garage in which Mr. Baldwin leaves his car. You thank your lucky stars for the weather. The fog is rolled in again, making it difficult to see clearly more than a hundred feet. Promptly at 9.45, you see his car roll into the garage entrance. Two minutes later, you're sitting at the wheel of your car waiting for him to come out. Suddenly, you recognize him as he comes out. The plump figure, the rolling walk. You wait until he gets halfway up the block, about to cross, and then... There's your payment, Mr. Baldwin. He's dead, all right. Now the keys... is wallet. There we are. Hey, what's happened here? Officer, I'm afraid... Let me see. Well, it looks like... He's dead. Good thing he has stopped. They'd see a puller hitting right on him when it was his fault. Stump pedestrians. What's that? I'll have to take your name, of course. You know who he is? No, I don't. We'll have to check. Well, I'd be called. No, no, don't worry about it, Mr. Saw the whole thing. Guy stepped out from behind a parked car in the middle of the block. We won't have to hold you. That was unexpected, wasn't it, Hillary? You can't help wondering about the unbelievable stroke of luck that night. As you put Baldwin's driver's license before you and practice his signature over and over again. Ten times. A hundred. A thousand. Finally, you can forge his signature perfectly. You're ready now for your visit to the safe deposit box tomorrow. I'm sorry. Pardon me. I'm very sorry. Excuse me, please. Yes, sir? Uh, George Baldwin box 1438. Yes, sir. Sign here, please. Do you have your key? Oh, yes. There you are. All right. Oh, uh, Baldwin 1438. Let me see. I have a note here. What? Just a moment, please. Oh. Yes, here it is. It's about the rental on the box. Three and a half due on the 15th of last month. Oh, yes, yes. Well, it must have slipped my mind, eh? Here. There you are. Thank you, sir. This way, please. All right. You can take it in one of those boots over there. Thank you. To whom it may concern to be open in the event of my death. This is to certify that on the night of May 10th I witnessed a hit-and-run accident at the intersection of 15th and Maple Streets in which two men... I mean, they're clear. They can't such us now. Players have no doubt been hearing and reading about that exciting new version of Canasta called Hollywood Free Deck Canasta. Now, a 12-page booklet giving complete rules for this fun-filled new game is waiting for you free at any signal service station. Naturally, these booklets will go fast when even such a card expert as Robert Lee Johnson, the only Pacific Coast member of the National Canasta Laws Commission, says of the game, you'll never know how much fun cards can be until you've played Hollywood Canasta. This new three-deck game has completely replaced two-deck Canasta with all my friends in Hollywood. No wonder leading department stores in 32 states are now selling this booklet. But you needn't pay a cent if you'd like a copy for yourself or some card-playing friend. They're yours for the asking if you just stop by a signal station soon, for sure, or even better tonight. No purchase required, no obligation. Any signal dealer will gladly give you free a copy of the 12-page booklet on Hollywood Free Deck Canasta while his supply lasts. So things are looking up, aren't they, Hillary? It isn't hard to find answers for the routine questions they asked you at headquarters later that day. You obeyed the law to the letter, didn't you? Stopped immediately, did everything you could for the victim, cooperated with the officer. You're sure now that they can't touch you, now that the letter marked to whom it may concern is gone, the wallet and the keys disposed of. Mr. Baldwin has been paid off, hasn't he, Hillary? In the only currency he understood. But a week later, when you drop by to see Milrid, you find her a little skeptical. Hillary, dear, you shouldn't have come. You know we agreed it was best to stay apart and for Mr. Baldwin... Don't worry about Mr. Baldwin, Milrid. He won't be back. How can you be sure? He's a chronic liar. Everything he's told you, everything he promised. I told you he's through. I had it out with him once and for all. I don't believe it. He'll be back. He won't stop until you've given him every penny you had. Milrid, honey, will you please forget Mr. Baldwin? How can I? He's ruined everything we've ever... Who's that? I don't know. Answer it. I'll be in the bedroom. This is Hardway. Mr. Nolan. I'd like to talk to Mr. Gaines if you don't mind. Mr. Gaines. He's here. I saw him come in. Hillary. Tell him to take his time. I got all evening. Hillary. What's the matter? I'm just checking further into the accidental death of Mr. Baldwin the other night. I thought you'd be surprised, Mrs. Hardwick. Gaines, we found something in Baldwin's pocket that might interest you. Here. The report said you claimed you didn't know him, Gaines. This policy is made out to you. Why, I... I guess I didn't recognize you. Sure. Well... Another funny thing. He puts his car in the public garage, locks it, walks out, gets knocked over half a block away, and his keys are gone. Somebody got to him and took him, huh? Somebody who wanted the key to a safe deposit box. Now, wait a minute. You have no right to come in here. We know it was there because there was a notice in his pocket saying payment on the box was overdue. What's that got to do with me? Oh. As a matter of fact, we checked the box and found it according to the timestamp on the bank slip. Someone impersonating Baldwin visited the box. Forged Baldwin's signature. Sixteen hours after Baldwin was killed. Now, look, I still don't know why you think that I... He was shaking you down, wasn't he? Well, wasn't he? No. No. Of course not. We know Baldwin, Mr. Gaines, been checking on his record during the past few months. We got a good idea. He hit you for the biggest bite of all and the night he got killed. Hillary! You can't. I've... It's not true. If I talk fast to a smart lawyer, because when you had a motive like blackmail to accidental death like Baldwin's, you'd get first-degree murder. No. You see, a blackmailer is like a hit-and-run artist. The big bite comes just before he skips, and Baldwin was skipping. He had a ticket in his pocket, Mr. Gaines. A ticket on the next ship to South America. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program the whistler reached Sunday night at this same time. Signal Oil Company has asked me to remind you again that if you want a free copy of that twelve-page booklet on the exciting new three-deck card game Hollywood Canasta, you'd better stop by a signal station soon so as not to be disappointed. No purchase required, no obligation. A copy is yours for the asking, while the supply lasts. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Gerald Moore, Lurine Tuttle, Ed Begley, Marvin Miller, and Herb Litten. The whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Joseph Cochran, 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. Marvin Miller speaking for the Signal Oil Company. Stay tuned now for our Miss Brooks starring Eve Arden, which follows immediately over most of these stations. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.