 And now stay tuned for the mystery program that is unique among all mystery programs. Because even when you know who's guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In 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'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. Yeah, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now for the signal oil company, the Whistler's strange story. Deadly rumor. It was quiet in the Holbrook home. Upstairs, a doctor and nurse stood near the foot of the bed. The nurse who had attended Francis Holbrook for many months. She appeared stunned and confused that the doctor is verdict. I just can't believe it, doctor, that she could take her own life after we've worked so. Struggled to bring her back to hell. Mrs. Holbrook was more than an invalid, Lillian. She was tired. I can believe it. Mr. Holbrook, he'll be terribly shocked. I think it will be easier if you tell him, Lillian. It will be gentler that way. I'll go downstairs. Call his office. I'll wait. Tell him to come at once. It's going well, isn't it, Lillian? Very well. And there's even a certain pleasure that you're the one to call Ralph Holbrook. Explain. You almost wish you could tell him more. Especially as you sense the relief he displays instead of outright shock or grief. Yes. You know that Ralph is actually glad that his wife, Francis, is dead. But he manages to put on a good act in front of the doctor when he arrives home. Francis. Poor Francis. Now, she's suffered for a long time, Mr. Holbrook. It isn't as if she were in perfect health. And you gave her a great deal of happiness, Mr. Holbrook. Thank you, Lillian. You'll excuse me now. I forgot to fill out my report. Suicide. You got to put that down? Overdose of sleeping tablets. You see here? Very few left. That's what she did, all right. Strange. The way she hung on all those months wouldn't think she'd do a thing like that. Don't you agree, Lillian? Oh, I do. I was telling the doctor the same thing. But it seems obvious. Yes. Yes, it does. Doesn't it? He said it strangely, didn't he, Lillian? And in the days that follow, you wonder about Ralph. How much he suspects. You're certain that he'd be aware of the reason you killed her. You're sure of how he feels about you. Certain that he's aware of your own feelings toward him. But you felt all along that he would do nothing about it as long as Francis lived. You wonder how long it'll be before Ralph comes to you and asks you to marry. And then on the day after the funeral, you overhear him talking on the telephone. Yes, darling. I'll meet you tonight. We can plan everything. What? Nancy, you know how much I love you. I don't want to put it off. I don't care what anybody thinks. You listen completely stunned at Ralph's words of endearment to someone else. Nancy, a girl you remember who called him once before. Yes, you remember how he hung up quickly when he saw that you were nearby. It's beginning to fit together, isn't it, Lillian? A clever calculation on Ralph's part which added up correctly. One, he tricked you into believing he cared for you. Two, you fell in love with him. Three, and most important of all, because you thought he loved you. You put his wife out of the way to clear the path for him. You surely set him free for someone else. You continue the list. Yes, I know. You've been wonderful, sweetheart. Sweetheart, I'll show him. He won't make a fool of me. Goodbye, darling. See you tonight, Lillian. Been standing there long. Oh, no, not very. I was just looking for you, Mr. Holbrook. Oh? Well, that's a coincidence. I was going to look for you in just a few minutes, but now that you're here... Then you do have something to say to me. At last. I... yes, I do. I really haven't had the chance to say it before. I wanted to thank you, Lillian. You've been especially kind, considerate to Francis, and very helpful to me. Have I, Ralph? Yes, Lillian. You have. I think you know how much I appreciate all you've done. I wonder if I do. I hope this check I've made out to you will help, Convince. Let's see now. Here it is. Five hundred dollars. I insist to accept it. After all, you were so much more than just Francis' nurse. I thought I was. I tried to be so much more. You were splendid, really. Now I imagine you'll be leaving some new job. Is that what you want me to do now? Leave? Well, what else, Lillian? I don't need... You don't need me anymore. I've served your purpose. My dear Lillian, I can't imagine what you're talking about. Can't you? I think you can. I didn't imagine it, you know. You did leave me, hon. You wanted me to think you were in love with me. You wanted me to think that if anything happened to Francis, we'd be together someday. You wanted me to... You wanted her to die. Perhaps I did, my dear. And she committed suicide. Didn't she? Yes. Of course. And now that you know I'm in love with someone else, I'm sure you don't want to hang around. Hang around? Of course, if you want a recommendation, I'll be glad to send it to you any time. Just let me hear from you. Yes, Mr. Holbrook. You'll hear from me. You can plan on it... soon. Tonight I'd like to have a little chat, especially with you drivers who buy just any brand of gasoline that happens to be convenient, because you think gasoline is gasoline. You'd change your mind in a hurry if you'd spend some time around signal service stations, as I do listening to comments of regular signal customers. You'd hear them telling about records they've kept, which prove the good mileage that has made signal famous as the go farther gasoline. You'd hear them bragging about their car's performance, its lively getaway, and the smooth, quiet way it walks up those steep hills in high since they switch to signal. What's more, there are now so many drivers like this who won't be satisfied with anything less than signal. This summer has been by far the biggest summer in the entire history of signal oil company. Well, friends, when a gasoline is increasing so in popularity, it seems to me you just naturally want to find out what it is about that gasoline, which makes drivers prefer it. There's no better time to find out than with your very next tank full of gasoline. And no better place to get it than at the next signal station you see. Well, Lilian, it's backfired, hasn't it? Your plan to kill Ralph Holbrook's wife so that he would be free to marry you has turned into mockery. Now you know that Ralph was leading you on all the time, actually bringing you to the point of murder so that he could be free but to marry someone else. But if Ralph thinks he's through with you, he doesn't believe that his check for $500 is a final payoff that you'll accept. He's very wrong, isn't he? He's going to pay for his double-cross and pay him full, isn't he? Already your mind is at work on another plan, a plan for complete revenge. And part of your plan goes into action less than a week later when you accept another case only a block or so away. Mrs. Pringle, your new employer, is one of the neighborhood gossips, it's imperfect. You know what she will do with a few well-timed insinuations. Now you mustn't think I'm inquisitive, my dear, but you were quite close to Mrs. Holbrook. Oh, yes, she was a fine woman. Very patient, in spite of her suffering. Well, now, I was just thinking, someone who stood so much pain so patiently, well, it seems rather strange that she suddenly decided to do away with herself. Mrs. Pringle, I wish you hadn't brought that up. Oh? I shouldn't talk about it. I shouldn't even think it, but... Yes, yes, yes. Well, I've so often thought that Mr. Holbrook... that he... No. No, I shouldn't say this. Oh, do, please do. You know I wouldn't breathe it to a soul. You thought what about Mr. Holbrook? Well, he always seemed so kind, so devoted, and poor Mrs. Holbrook, she adored him so. Yes, poor thing. Go on, dear. Well, like I say, he seemed devoted, but I wondered if maybe she hadn't discovered something about him. Discovered something? You mean something like another woman? Oh, I shouldn't say it. Still, she did change. She wasn't cheerful, kind of quiet, deep in thought, just toward the end. Mm-hmm. Did you ever hear them quarreling? Oh, Mrs. Pringle, really. I don't think we should talk about it. Oh, my dear, it's just conversation, just idle conversation. We're just supposing. Now, aren't we? Yes, we are. And you won't repeat or even suggest that I've thought such things, will you? Oh, my dear, you know I won't. Well, I wouldn't think of it. Let sleeping dogs lie, I always say. I'm glad that's what you always say. But the very next day, Lillian, you hear something that assures you that your plan is a good one. Over the back fence, two of Mrs. Pringle's neighbors are talking, unaware that you're around as they discuss a very choice bit of gossip. Now, you know, Madeline, Eunice Pringle wouldn't want this repeated. And she swears that that new nurse she's hired doesn't even realize the import of her remarks. But Eunice managed to draw out some very interesting items. Really, Louise? I just wondered. Such is the fact that Mrs. Holbrook's death might not have been by her own hand. You mean? I mean her husband. No. Yes. But go on, Lillian. Well, Eunice says that she's been adding things up. Oh, the few innocent remarks from a nurse, the facts as they appeared in the papers, and a motive. Motive? Oldest motive in the world. Another woman. No. Yes, younger and prettier. I'll bet she's the one I saw him with the other day. It's all well underway now, isn't it, Lillian? And you're only waiting for Mrs. Pringle to take the final bold step. Bring it out into the open. And then one afternoon as you sit in the garden with Mrs. Pringle reading to her. Though the day of my destiny is over and the star of my fate has declined, thy soft heart refused to discover the faults which so many could find. Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, it shrank not to share it with me. And the... Lillian dear. Oh, yes, Mrs. Pringle. Why don't you tell the truth? What? I mean, now tell me. Tell me what you really think about the Holbrooks. Poor Francis' suicide. Why, I... I don't know what you mean. You know as well as I do that it's entirely possible that Ralph Holbrook had something to do with her death. Mrs. Pringle. After all, there was another woman. Well, yes, but... It wouldn't be the first time a man murdered his wife. Oh, really, Mrs. Pringle. You think that Mr. Holbrook... Why not? Why, I... Do you mean to tell me the thought hadn't occurred to you? Well, Mrs. Pringle, as a matter of fact... Of course, my dear. Of course it occurred to you. I never did care for that Ralph Holbrook from the very first day that Francis introduced me to him. There was something sneaky about him. Shifty-eyed, you know. Oh, go on, Lillian. I do so love Byron, don't you? It's building, isn't it, Lillian? The case against Ralph Holbrook and your pleas. It's going exactly as you planned thanks to Mrs. Pringle. Later that afternoon, several of the neighborhood ladies drop in for tea. You note the excited whispers the glances they exchange. And now you're certain that in a matter of hours the latest rumor about Ralph Holbrook will spread through town like wildfire. That evening it's your small cottage. You stand at your kitchen window, chatting with your next-door neighbor, Mrs. Armstrong, standing outside. Well, I've always thought it rather queer all along, dear. You see, I knew Francis Holbrook quite well, and it just seemed odd to me that she'd ever consider suicide. Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Armstrong. It's rather difficult to tell about things like that. Even so, my dear, I just can't bring myself around to believe that Francis Holbrook would take her own life. Oh, excuse me. Someone's at my door. Of course, dear. Good evening, Lillian. Why, Mr. Holbrook? I want to talk to you. Well, I... Yes, we're going to have a little chat right here and now. Now, see here... This won't take long. Is something wrong, Ralph? Yes, something's wrong, very wrong. There is. Someone's been spreading some rather ugly rumors about me. Oh. Couldn't know anything about that, would you? Really, Mr. Holbrook? Oh, stop it! I'm no fool. You've been feeding your friends that Gabby Mrs. Pringle a lot of lies about me and she's been spreading them all over town and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, yes you do. And I won't stand for it. I'm warning you. Those rumors had better stop. Just a minute, Mr. Holbrook. What right have you to come in here and get out? Get out this instant. Not until I put you straight. Now, sit down. I said, get out! And I said, sit down! You're frightened, aren't you, Lillian? As Ralph grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you down into the chair, you've never seen him like this before. His face flushed with anger, his eyes blazing with hatred, his voice trembling, rising higher and higher. And then suddenly you remember the open kitchen window. Mrs. Armstrong in her yard next door listening. And then finally... Do you mind if I answer the door, Mr. Holbrook? Go ahead. Now, that might say I'm leaving. Hello, Lillian. Good evening, Mr. Holbrook. Mrs. Armstrong. Excuse me. Couldn't help overhearing, my dear. I was worried afraid it might harm you. That's why I came over. I'm so glad you did. I was frightened, so terribly frightened. I didn't know what it was going to do. Poor dear. He accused me of spreading rumors. Said I told people he'd murdered Mrs. Holbrook. He threatened me. My dear, I think it's time you face something. I really believe it is. Face something? The rumors about his wife supposed suicide, Lillian. Heaven knows they're all over town. Be honest with yourself. What do you really think about them? Could they be true? True. Surely you can tell me, Lillian. You were there, caring for Francis Holbrook all those months. You must have noticed the way he acted, things he did. I suppose there were things I should have sensed. Yes. Now that I look back on it, there toward the last... I'm sure he didn't want her to live. He got so he insisted on giving her the sleeping pills himself every night. He insisted he give them to him? I thought it was just a kind, loving gesture, but... But now, my dear, since he's threatened you, surely... Yes, Mrs. Armstrong, now I must think of myself. I couldn't believe it of him. But he did give her sleeping pills. And, well, there isn't anything else to think. Is there? It's all happened naturally enough, hasn't it, Lillian? A bit more suddenly than you'd planned. But Ralph's surprise visit. His angry threats Mrs. Armstrong overheard. That's a break you hadn't expected. Now there's no reason for delay. No reason why you can't go ahead and make your final move. Mrs. Armstrong will make a perfect witness, won't she, Lillian? An hour later, you arrive at the Holbrook home, park your car a safe distance away, and find the house in total darkness. Hurry around to the rear entrance. And then using the key Francis had once given you, the key you neglected to return when you left the Holbrook house. You slip inside. You make your way along the downstairs corridor. Then, inside the study, you find what you came for. Ralph Holbrook's gun in the desk drawer. You slip it into your coat pocket, and then a wave of panic sweeps over you as you hear Ralph's approaching footsteps. You glance around the room frantically, and then slip behind the window drapes an instant before the study door opens. And then Ralph dials a number on the phone. Hello, Nancy? Oh, may I speak with Miss Nancy Arnold, please? What's that? I've been trying to reach her all day. I see. Any idea when she'll be back? All right. All right? No. No message. I'll call her later. You wait in the darkness, and hear Ralph's footsteps on the stairs. And then when you hear the bedroom door close, you slip into the corridor, out the rear entrance, and race back to your car. When you get to your own home, you take your phone and dial Ralph's number. As you wait for him to answer, you stare at the gun, his gun, lying on the table beside you. Hello? Mr. Holbrook? Yes? This is Lillian Parker, Ralph. I must see you right away. We've nothing further to discuss, Lillian. I'd appreciate it. Please. It's very important. What's it all about? Well, since you were here, I've thought it over. And I've decided to leave town. I could stay here and make a lot of trouble for you, but I wouldn't be smart. I'm glad you see it that way. Oh, don't get me wrong, Ralph. You're not frightening me one bit, you know. It's just that I happen to be a little low on funds. I have some bills to pay some things to buy, including a plane ticket to New York. I see. I wouldn't need much. A few thousand? I'll never come back. Surely it would be worth it to you. Yes, it would be worth it to me. I'll stop by the office and get the cash, and I'll be right over. It's done, isn't it, Lillian? Now there's nothing to do but wait. You pace the floor of your living room, and as the minutes tick by, you grow more and more confident, certain that your plan won't fail. Finally, you hear a car stop out front. You glance out and see Ralph Holbrook coming up the walk. Quickly, you look next door. Mrs. Armstrong's lights are still on. Ralph's loaded gun is in your jacket pocket as your answer is knocked on the door. Well, Lillian? Come in, Ralph. Come right in. I came as soon as I could. I hope you're ready for me. Believe me, Mr. Holbrook, I am ready for you. Just getting into my robe. It's Ralph Holbrook. He tried to kill me. We struggled for the gun. During the summer months, cars take quite a beating what with long, fast vacation trips, in addition to frequent weekend outings. And that's why now is a good time to get your car back in shape by making sure that all wearing parts are freshly and properly lubricated. For the chassis, that means a signal double-checked loop job. We call it double-checked because signal dealers check a point not just once but twice to make double sure that not a single part is ever overlooked. Perhaps it's also time to look after those points on your car which need attention twice a year or each 5,000 miles such as transmission and differential, front wheel bearings, and shock absorbers. You'll find that signal dealers are experts at these and many more upkeep services. After all, signal dealers are independent businessmen who have a personal interest in pleasing you. This conscientious service plus fine quality signal products are just two reasons why cars run so well and last so long when serviced regularly by signal dealers. It's over, isn't it, Lillian? Ralph Holbrook is dead just as you planned. You killed him with his own gun in your home and then racing across to Mrs. Armstrong's house next door. You sobbed out the story that he had tried to kill you. Minutes later the police arrived. You saw them across the way moving around in your home. Now they're back in Mrs. Armstrong's living room and you've told them your version of the tragedy. You say, Miss Parker, that he offered you money to leave town? Yes. That's right. We found over $3,000 in his pockets. The money he pulled out the gun I grabbed for it. There was a struggle. And the gun went off. Yes. And Miss Parker? Yes. There have been a lot of rumors circulating through the town about Holbrook and the death of his wife. Yes, I've heard some of the talk. So have we at headquarters. We've had some calls about it. None very conclusive. But only tonight we received one that moved us toward immediate action. A call saying Holbrook had threatened you, Miss Parker, because you said he'd killed his wife. That call came from your neighbor, Mrs. Armstrong. Mrs. Armstrong called you? Told you this? Yes. On the strength of her call we assigned a man to keep an eye on Holbrook. Sergeant Dunn here got to Holbrook's house tonight just in time to follow him here. Here? That's right, Miss Parker. I was right behind Holbrook. I got to your living room window just after he entered. But then... I had my gun ready to protect you, but there was no struggle, Miss Parker. I saw you pull the gun, shoot Holbrook down in cold blood. I don't know why you killed him, Miss Parker, but I'll bet whoever started these rumors about Holbrook had no idea they'd turn out to be so deadly. Let that whistle be your signal for the Signal Oil Program, the Whistler, each Sunday night at this same time. Signal Oil Company has asked me to remind you now that school days are here again, it's even more important to drive at sensible speeds, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life, possibly a child. featured in tonight's story were Bill Foreman, Gene Bates, and Ted Osborne. The Whistler was produced by George W. Allen and directed by Robert Hafter, with story by Joel Malone, 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. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.