 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. SignalGam! Signal, the famous GoFarther gasoline. Invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story by The Whistler. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies the Signal Oil program, 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 The Whistler's strange story arose for Pamela. The concert was progressing successfully, brilliantly. The young artist had perfect command of the keyboard at her fingertips. And the quiet inspired audience watching. This was because, like her famous father, Thomas Barrett, before her, she loved music. It was a part of her. And she felt no more nervousness than he might have had at the height of his brilliant career as one of the world's most celebrated pianists. Pamela Barrett might have felt differently, however, if she knew what was in the heart and mind of someone watching her. Yes, Pamela Barrett's touch might not have been so fine, so sure if she had the knowledge of a cold calculated plan for murder. It was a plan that began some time back at an even more innocent affair, an impromptu concert at a pleasant social gathering, friends of Pamela's and of Denise Barrett's stepmother. Denise was watching admiringly as Pamela played for her friends. Softly, beautifully. Pamela, darling, it was beautiful, wonderful. Thank you, Denise, all of you. Thanks so much. She's ready now. You must arrange a concert debut for her, Denise. I should say so. You hear them, darling? It's what I've been telling you repeatedly. You mustn't let anything interfere with your music. Nothing will, Denise. And now if you'll excuse me. You've done a marvelous job as her guardian, Denise. Her father would be proud. Yes, it's a shame Thomas Barrett couldn't be here. Yes, he would have loved to hear his daughter play tonight. Yes. Oh, yes, it's our only regret. Oh, my dear, I'm sorry I mentioned that. It's all right. Just the excitement, the thrill of hearing her play so much like, like Thomas himself. Yes, Denise, so much like Thomas himself, your late husband. The thought is still on your mind as you excuse yourself. Leave your guests discussing the way you've managed Pamela. Brought her along, guided her career in affairs so efficiently. And on the terrace, you're congratulated again by a guest who has remained in the background. Marty Drake, attorney for the estate of the late Thomas Barrett. She was very good, Denise. Very good. The girl does have talent, doesn't she? Mm-hmm. You think she meant that about not letting anything interfere with her career? I hope so. Ah, so do I. You want to make sure, you know, young girl and love that way. I've managed her pretty well until now, Marty. And she has faith in you, both personally and as an attorney. She told me the other afternoon she was glad you were handling the estate. Oh, sure. I was just thinking that's all. I mean, her father's career ended by an accident. It'd be dreadful if anything had to end the daughters too. Please, Marty. Oh, I'm sorry. Like I said, I was just thinking. Marty, it would be terrible if... If you couldn't handle her and couldn't talk her out of marrying Richard Matthews? I can. I must. You can say that again, baby. Her marriage had put us in the position of having to account for the $100,000 we've managed to remove from the estate. $100,000? Is it that much, Marty? We've lived well, Denise, very well since Thomas fell over that cliff a year ago. But $100,000, Marty, that's... That's the difference between a misdemeanor and a felony. You better go to work on Pamela quick. I will. Tomorrow. Oh. I thought you might like a cocktail, Mrs. Barrett. Yes. Thank you, Alma. Yes, thank you. I could use one nicely. Alma, would you tell Pamela there's another number I'd like her to play? Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am. She told me to tell you. She's gone out. There was a phone call. Not Richard Matthews. Oh, yes, ma'am. Richard Matthews. Well, can you tell me not to worry? Marty. Marty, we're in trouble. So is Pamela. What do you mean? Well, we won't have much choice, Denise. If you're a lovely stepdaughter persistent married, there might be only one way to stop it. And this time you'll do the stopping. If you don't, baby, you won't be around to spend any more of Pamela's money. You'll be on the inside looking out. Don't worry, Marty. I'll stop her. A $20 Signal Gasoline book is being sent to Darian Guest of San Fernando, California as a token of our appreciation for this limerick. A most thrifty young woman named Penny drove from Kalamazoo to Kilkenny. She found, at this last, in checking her gas that signal went farther than any. Signal, signal, signal gasoline. Your car will go farther, go farther gasoline. Well, all I have to say to the last from Kalamazoo is that if she'd been a Westerner, she would have known that from Canada to Mexico, signal has long been famous as the go farther gasoline. But mileage, mind you, is only one of the benefits you'll notice when you switch to signal. In addition, you'll enjoy signals quick starting, signals peppy pickup, and signals smooth, quiet power. For like birds of a feather, mileage and performance go together. To enjoy both, just heed the advice on those signal billboards you've seen. Next time, fill up with signal. The famous go farther gasoline. Well, Denise, your conversation with Marty only strengthens your determination, doesn't it? Pamela Barrett must be talked out of her romance with Richard Matthews. The girl can't learn of the embezzlement you've engaged in with Marty during the last year. It might set her to thinking, to adding up something else, something that will suggest to her that her father's death a year ago might have been more than an accident. Yes, Denise, the problem faces you squarely now. And the following afternoon you decide to approach Pamela to attempt the first step in dissuading her. As you walk down the lawn corridor toward the music room, your maid, Alma, suddenly steps out of your late husband's study. Oh, ma'am. Yes, Alma. About Mr. Barrett's curio collection, Ms. Pamela said she didn't want anything touched. I told you. Oh, no, really. I don't see why she insists on keeping those awful things around. Spears, poison darts, those vials of South American and South African poisons. Curari, snake venom, and all those things. Oh, her father's, ma'am. I can't imagine what Mr. Barrett had in mind bringing those horrible things back with him after that foreign tour. I just can't... Poisons. They make me shiver. Oh, well, never mind, Alma. I'll talk to Pamela again later. Very good. You play Chopin nearly as well as your father did, Pamela. You're still angry with me, aren't you? Well, I don't blame you really. I should have told you the reasons I thought it best that you postpone your marriage to Richard for a year or two. The main reason is that you enjoy telling me I can't do things, isn't it, Denise? You think I'm very unfair, don't you, dear? Aren't you? I don't think so. Pamela, I know how hard it's been for you since your father died. It's been hard on me, too. I loved him very much. I've just been trying to keep a promise I made to your father about you. I guess I've gone at it very badly. Promise to Daddy? What was the promise? I promised him I'd see to it that you followed in his footsteps, become a great concert pianist. You did? Yes, dear, I did. Dad asked you to? Yes. He wanted you to make your debut at Civic Hall on your 19th birthday. Well, that's hardly two weeks away. Yes, but I made all the arrangements some time ago. That's why I was so shocked when you said you wanted to give up your music and marry Richard. And why I was so emphatic and saying I wouldn't let you. My career meant a lot to Dad, didn't it? Pamela, you're awfully young to get married. Why not wait for a couple of years? And in the meantime, go ahead with everything just as your father planned. I guess it would have made him happy. Of course it would. All right, Denise, I'll try to go on with my career. You'll always be glad, darling. You may feel badly now about postponing your marriage to Richard, but after you get started on your career... Oh, Denise, you must have misunderstood. I said I'd continue with my music, but I didn't say I changed my mind about marrying Richard. But you can't marry him. You wouldn't have time for both. Look, Denise, legally, I'm old enough to be married, with or without your consent, even if you are still guarded enough my money. If I decide to marry Richard, there's nothing you can do to stop it. Remember that. Nothing. You've failed, haven't you, Denise? That look on Pamela's face. You've seen it before on her father's face. The man you married with so much more than love in mind. Yes, Denise, to gain control again is another step necessary, a more drastic one. But something more in your line. You've always managed with men easier than with women. And later that week, out at the swimming pool, you call on all the strength of your considerable feminine powers to turn the tide for you. Win him away from Pamela. Morning, Richard. Morning, Mrs. Barrett. How's the water? Warm and wonderful. Here, give me a hand, will you? There we are. Thanks. Now to get this cap off. Oh, it was such a beautiful morning. I just couldn't resist the pool. Hand me the towel, will you? Oh, here you are. Thank you. Pamela around? Oh, she had some shopping to do. That's why I asked you over. I want to talk to you alone. Sit down, Richard. All right. Pamela tells me you're quite a musician. Oh, she's prejudiced. You like Pamela very much, don't you? I love her. Enough to put her welfare before your happiness? Of course. Then, Richard, don't let her think about getting married until she's reached the place in the music world her father planned for her. Why couldn't she do both? She just couldn't, that's all. Hundreds of women have combined marriage with a career and rather successfully, too. Perhaps, but not Pamela. She's different. Her life shouldn't be complicated with emotional disturbances. Her thought should be only of her music. And you are rather distracting, Richard. Oh, not really, Mrs. Barrett. You make it sound... Denise, please. All right. Denise? Did it ever occur to you that they... Well, the things Pamela sees in you are obvious to other women, too? I, uh... I never thought much about it, Mrs. Barrett. Denise. You know, Pamela's such a child. Naive and all. But you and I, Richard, we're the same kind. I knew it from the first time I saw you. Remember, Richard? Pamela's first cancer. The afternoon you brought her the first rose. I remember. You seemed a little surprised when we were introduced. Uh, yes, I suppose I was. I didn't expect Pamela's stepmother to be so... So what, Richard? Well, young and... and so attractive. How nice of you to say that, darling. You really think we're attractive? Yes. Very. Well, we are getting along well, aren't we, Richard? I think we should get to know more of one another, don't you? Uh-huh. Well, there's no time... like the present is there. Whatever you say. Denise. He's falling into the trap, isn't he, Denise? Soon you'll be able to twist him around your little finger. Yes, you're confident that when you're through with Richard, he'll have forgotten that Pamela ever existed. You sit there at the edge of the pool with Richard for over an hour. Then when he's gone, you hurry to the telephone and call Marty. So you charmed the boy at the telephone? Isn't what I told him. It's what I left unsaid, Marty. That's what counts. I'm certain he thinks I'm quite mad about him. And he's very interested. Uh, little rendezvous? Of course not, and I didn't ask him to. I merely mentioned that I'd be dining alone tomorrow night at that quaint little café overlooking the sea. How I loved it there. The music, the candlelight. Yeah, yeah, I think you'll show up. How could he turn it down? Oh, well, honey. Don't worry, Marty. After tomorrow night, all our worries will be over. Promptly at seven the following night you enter Chavini. That quaint little café at Santa Monica. The head waiter steers you to a secluded table near the large window overlooking the sea. And there in the candlelight you sip a martini and wait for Richard to show up. Are you aware of someone standing by your elbow? Good evening, Mrs. Barrett. Yes? Allow me. I am René de Mont. May I sit down? Just a moment, I don't... I am from the Hollywood Escort Bureau. Escort Bureau? Yes, Mr. Richard Matthews hired me. He said Mrs. Barrett hated to dine alone. Get out of my way, you... Well, you are now Lord Mrs. Barrett. How about my fee? Collect your fee from the man who hired you. He'll pay. Yes. He'll pay all right. So, he sent you the two-bit Romeo, a guy from an Escort Bureau. Yes, of all the dirty, shabby tricks. Well, it's no worse than one you tried to pull on Pamela, baby. You must be losing your technique. You won't think it's so funny when I tell you that last night she informed me they're planning to get married right after the concert. What? I said they were planning, Marty. But the wedding will never take place. How are you going to stop it, poison her cornflakes? Don't be a fool. I... Poison? Yes, poison. That's it, Marty. What are you going to do? My late husband's curio collection. The poisons he picked up in South Africa and South America. Some of them are fatal in almost a matter of minutes, Marty. I thought you'd gotten into that stuff. Pamela wouldn't let me. Pamela wouldn't let me get rid of a thing. But how very thoughtful of her. How very thoughtful. Just a scratch from any one of those poisons, Marty. And it's all over for little Pamela. You're all right. But how are you going to do it? I don't know, Marty. But I'll think of something. I'll think of something. Yes, and it's on your mind all that night, isn't it, Denise? You've got to find a way to kill Pamela. But one of the poisons from her father's collection. And somehow Richard must be blamed. Just how you're going to do that isn't clear, not yet. Not until the following afternoon, when suddenly quite by accident, you stumble on the answer. You're sitting in the library when your maid walks into the room. Oh, Elmer. Yes, ma'am. Where are you going with those flowers? Well, Miss Pamela asked me to put them in here. The gardener picked them this morning. Aren't the roses beautiful? Yes, they are. They're quite beautiful. Put them in that vase over there. I just remembered I have something very important to do. It's all very simple, Marty. We poisoned Pamela with a rose. A rose from her darling Richard. I don't follow you, Denise. Richard always sends her a rose when she appears on the stage. To become a superstition with them, she wouldn't appear without it. All right, so. I'll arrange to be at the door when the florist delivers it. They always wrap the stem of the rose with a very thin wire. I'll put several sharp wires on it, Marty. One of them right up through the rose. All of them, especially treated. One of those wires will be sure to scratch Pamela. Uh-huh. Yeah, but suppose that she... I'll pin the rose on her. Arrange it so that she'll be certain to scratch herself. Oh, that'll never work. The police will be sure to find out. They'll make it all the better if they do. Richard sent her the rose. Not me. He always does. Yeah, but the motive. Why should he want her out of the way? Because he was madly in love with me, and he wanted the Barrett fortune, too. You see, he knew that with Pamela out of the way, all the money would go to me. You know, uh, that might work. And with you, the attorney for the Barrett estate to back up my story, it can't fail to work. Oh, sure, sure. That'll stand up, baby. In another month, Marty, the Barrett fortune will be all mine. Ours, baby. All right. Ours. However, I think I should warn you, Marty. Oh? Just in case you get ideas about pushing me off a cliff, keeping all the money for yourself. Oh. Now look, we're getting married. Yes, I know. I know. But I've taken the necessary precautions just the same, darling. I've set a letter to a friend of mine, a lawyer. That letter will be opened in the event of my death. What are you driving at? It's all there. In the letter, Marty. All the evidence the district attorney will need. How you embezzled money from the Barrett estate and the complete story of Thomas' death. You see, I'd hate to have an accident happen to me, Marty. Fall off a cliff like he did. You don't think I'd double-cross you than he's? I'm crazy about you. Yes, of course you are. But I just want to make certain you don't have a change of heart. You might get to think that a half million dollars looks better to you than I do. See what I mean, darling? And now a suggestion to drivers. 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Find out why any way you look at it. Today's best battery buy is a signal deluxe battery. It was all so simple, wasn't it, Denise? Richard's rose arrived while Pamela was upstairs dressing for the concert. It took you only a few moments to turn it into a deadly weapon. Then you went to Pamela's room and carefully pinned it on her dress in such a way that she'd be certain to scratch herself. Die by the poison you took from your late husband's curio collection. You lie down for a while, certain that you'll soon be in full control of the Barrett fortune. You're calm and confident when Marty calls for you a few moments after Pamela leaves with Richard. And now, as you sit beside him in the concert hall, watching Pamela's performance, your eyes are fastened on the rose she's wearing. The recital progresses, you become more and more tense. The fear that your plan has gone wrong gradually comes over. Something should have happened to Pamela long before they shouldn't have, Denise. And as her brilliant performance draws to a climax, you exchange worried glances with Marty. Baby, what's gone wrong? I don't know, I don't know. I was afraid of you right there from the start. It'll work, Marty. It's got to. Excuse me. Oh, come in, ma'am. Oh, wasn't this Pamela wonderful tonight? Yes, yes. Where is she? Oh, she didn't come back to her dressing room, ma'am. She ran right off the stage and left with Mr. Richard. What? Yes, ma'am. She gave me this note for you. My dear Denise, sorry to rush off like this. But Richard and I are driving to Las Vegas to be married. I know you don't approve, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us. Love, Pamela. Married? Miss Pamela getting married? Oh, how wonderful. Oh, no wonder the poor child was so excited before she left for the council. Marty, I don't feel well. I feel a little pale myself. No, yes, ma'am. Miss Pamela was so nervous she couldn't pin Mr. Richard's rose on her dress. I had to do it for her. What? Miss Pamela was so excited. You pin Mr. Richard's rose on her? Yes, ma'am. But you couldn't have it. I did it for her. I took it at the door when it came and pinned it on her in her room. That's right. But I'm talking about the artificial rose Mr. Richard brought her later when it came to pick up Miss Pamela. Artificial rose? Why did he do that? Well, Mr. Richard said that at the last minute he remembered roses made Miss Pamela sneeze this time of year. He brought an artificial rose. Alma, what did you do with the other rose? Well, Miss Pamela thought it was too pretty to throw away, ma'am. So she put it in your corsage when the florist brought it just before she left for the concert with Mr. Richard. My corsage? This way, yes, ma'am, the one you're wearing. Denise, your arm's bleeding. Oh, my. You must have scratched yourself. Scratched? Myself? Yes, I have. When did you do that? I don't know. It must have been... Marty? Well, that's a matter, ma'am. There is something wrong. Marty? Poison. Call a doctor. You know... Quick. Don't help her, Mr. Marty. Denise. Denise. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program The Whistler each Sunday night at the same time. Brought to you by the Signal Oil Company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine-quality automotive accessories. Remember, if you would like the fun of having your friends hear a limerick of yours on The Whistler, the address to which to send it is Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles 55, California. All limericks become the property of Signal Oil Company. Those selected for use on The Whistler will be chosen by our advertising representatives on the basis of humor, suitability, and originality. So, of course, they must be your own composition. Richard in Tonight's story were Mary Lansing and Frank Lovejoy. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Nancy Cleveland, 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 the same time next Sunday, another strange tale by The Whistler. Men between the ages of 17 and 34 can earn extra money and qualify for retirement pay by taking part-time military training at home. For full information, see...