 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 for Whistler. The famous Go Father 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. And I know many things while I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have set into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now the Whistler's strange story. Debt of armor. Ruggedly handsome, grained slightly about the temple. Worth regarded as a respectable citizen now. Financially independent and socially acceptable to those who knew nothing of his past. A past which was actually the present too. For down inside Morley Jackson hadn't changed, never would. Sitting at his desk now, he ran a finger along this smooth polished mahogany. His eyes wandered around the room, the luxuriously furnished office. Reflections of his apparent success as an importer. Yes, it was a far cry from the old days, the prohibition era of running the Jackson march. Now there was only one thing in the room that reminded him of those days. A short, heavy set man sitting in the chair opposite, puffing quietly on an expensive cigar. Ah, just like old times, talking like this, huh boy? It's been nice talking to you, Waxley. Glad you dropped in to see me, but right now I... Now boys all miss you, Morley. Been a long time since you left. Yes, it has. Now you got a nice set up here, all legit too. Quickly. Got married here, society doll. Mrs. Jackson is in South America right now, visiting friends. I'm going to join her in a week, staring tomorrow night as a matter of fact. You see, that's why I can't spend more time in South America. You know, I've been thinking maybe me and the boys could do some business down there. Maybe a bit of a dupe. No thanks, Waxley. I found being a respectable base. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of things to do. Oh, sure, I know how it is. But if you ever change your mind, or if anybody ever gives you any trouble, they won't. Excuse me, Waxley. Yes, Ms. Jackson? Mrs. Cole is here again, Mr. Jackson. Who? Mrs. Cole. Oh. Just a minute, Mr. Peck. Waxley, if you don't mind. Oh, sure, sure, boss. I gotta get rolling anyway. This way, Mr. Waxley, the side door. Gotcha. Well, I have a nice trip for you. Thanks, I will. All right, Mrs. Peck. Send Mrs. Cole in. Ah, Mrs. Cole. Come in, come in. Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson. Nice to see you again. This is Mr. Black. Larry Blacker, send a friend. I hope you don't mind. Of course not. Black? Yes, I am, Mr. Jackson. Sit down, won't you? Thank you. You got my note, Mrs. Cole. Oh, yes, yes. I was very grateful for your expression, Mr. Jackson. It was a great shock to all, his friend. Your husband was a fine man, perhaps greater than any of us realize. Yes, my husband was a fine man. He trusted everyone in criticism. If there's anything I can do. Well, there is, Mr. Jackson. You know, Fred died unexpectedly in the, uh, he left Mrs. Cole in rather straitened circumstances. Oh. I'm very sorry. All the insurance will go for debts, and even the house must go. I had no idea it was that bad. Fortunately, there is one thing that will enable Mrs. Cole to salvage something. And that's the money you owed to Fred. The money I owed to Fred? The money he let you have years ago, Mr. Jackson. It came to $30,000. You must be mistaken. I didn't owe your husband a cent. But Fred spoke about it to me several times. He called it a debt of honor. He told me you would surely repay it. Sure, there must be some mistake. The four days before he died, he mentioned it to me. And to me, Mr. Jackson. All right. I must have that money, but surely you realize my position. No, there's no legal way Mrs. Cole can make you say. Out of decency, out of common decency. It's a debt of honor. Mrs. Cole, we're wasting time. I told you, Florence, I warned you. Take gentlemen to recognize the debt of honor. That's enough, Black. Better think it over, Mr. Jackson. I don't intend to. As far as I'm concerned, the matter's closed. Now, if you don't mind, I'm terribly busy. You'll pay or else. I don't like threats, Mr. Black. Oh, please. I guess it's home. All right, Florence. Come along. I'll be back, Mr. Jackson. Don't waste your time. Good afternoon, Mrs. Cole. It's over, isn't it, Morley? The scene you've expected ever since Fred Cole died. You know you're safe now. Legally, Mrs. Cole can never force you to repay the debt. Fred loans you the money out of friendship. You sign nothing and there's no legal evidence. And you're not even worried about friend Larry Black, what he'll do. No. Minutes after they've gone, you erase the scene from your mind. Your thoughts are of your wife, Constance, your trip to South America. Miss Peck? Yes, sir? Has my steamship ticket arrived? Yes, sir. An hour ago. I'll have a seat. Good. A few hours later, you pick up your ticket and take the elevator down to the basement garage where you keep your car. As you step out of the elevator and the door closes, you're suddenly aware of someone standing at your elbow. That I'd be back, Jackson. I told you, Black, you're wasting your time. I don't think so. Look, you're made like a big hero. The knight in shining armor in front of Mrs. Cole, I'm sure she was impressed. Now, let her go at that, huh? Don't bother me. Just a minute. I'm not interested. I think you will be when you see this. Here. Take a look at this letter. Uh-uh. I said, look, don't touch. I'll hold on to it. Where did you get this? Mrs. Cole, when I was looking through some of our things, I happened to find it there. It didn't mean anything to her, but it did to me. Clean it up? What are you going to do? Surely you can figure that out, chef. Yes, I think I can. I pay Mrs. Cole the $30,000 and you give me the letter. You have the right idea, but the figure is wrong. What do you mean? This letter's going to cost you $50,000. $50? Uh-uh. That's it. I think that. Mrs. Cole, in on it too? No, no, no. It's all my idea. Big hero. What's wrong with it? She gets the money you owe Fred and I make a few bucks on the side. Well, Jackson? I'll have to think it over. Oh, sure, sure. I'll give you till tomorrow night. After that, the letter goes to the DA. Where can I reach you? Well, don't try this. I'll call you. Black Sam's there for a moment, a wide grin on his face. Then he turns, walks away. You'll watch him as he hurries up the ramp into the streets, disappears. The letter he has could ruin you, or couldn't have more of it. You wrote it long ago when you were in the racket. Had no idea of ever doing anything else. Quickly, you'll hurry back up to your office, pick up the telephone, and dial a number you haven't called in years. The action changes your manner, doesn't it? You feel a surge of the old ruthless cold power that you still somehow enjoy. Is Wacky there? Maybe. Who is this? Molly Jackson. Molly! Hey, hi, ya boy. This is Frankie. Yeah, it's been a long time. Yeah, yeah. Let me talk to Wacky. Well, you ain't here, Molly. Can I get my message? Yes. Have him come over to my office as soon as possible. Tell him I've changed my mind. I do have a job for him. All our Signal Gasoline book is being sent to Alma H. Dickey of Los Angeles, California as a token of our appreciation for this limerick. A girl in a new car from Lancaster was chagrined when an old fliver passed her. Said the driver, my last, if you'd used Signal Gas, you'd not only go farther but faster. Take no, take no, take no Gasoline Nor come a go farther, go farther Gasoline A smart fellow of that fliver driver in the limerick he knew what more and more drivers discover when they switch to Signal, the famous go farther Gasoline that mileage and performance are like birds of a feather. They go together. After all, they give you such good mileage, today's Signal Gasoline has to help your engine run more efficiently. And when your engine runs more efficiently you naturally notice quicker, starting, faster pickup and smoother power. So if it's driving pleasure you want, you can count on happy going when you power your car with Signal and if it's mileage you're interested in, well, naturally you want the famous go farther Gasoline. Signal, that is. You've made up your mind, haven't you, Mora? Larry Black, the threat he holds over, you must be eliminated. It would never do if the district attorney found out you were deeply involved in a killing years ago. It would mean the end of everything for you. This fine office, a prosperous business, your social position, everything would be wiped out and your wife Constance, waiting for you in South America, you wonder how she would treat you. Paying Black to 50,000 is not the way you've been trained in paying debts, not even a debt of honor. There's only one thing to do and for that little job, you've called in one of the old gangs, Waxy Roman, who now stands before your desk in the same respectful pose that he assumed years ago when he was taking orders from you. What's this letter you're talking about, boy? You remember the shortened jump? Fred Cole knew all about it. I told him what? He'd been a good friend. Also, I wrote him a letter. Oh, it wasn't very smart. No, it wasn't, but I did it anyway, all right. Now this guy Black has it. If he turns it over to the DA, well, they could wreck me. All you want, I should do you a little favor. You want me to get the letter back, huh? Yes. And I want you to get with it, Black. Okay. It'll cost you real dough. I got a new man now and his price is high. Five grand. All right, but no flip. Remember, you can depend on us, Boss. Just tell me who, where, and when. His name's Lowen Black. Lowen Black. He's probably going to be laying low for the next 24 hours. Your man might have a little trouble finding it. Don't worry. Have him keep an eye on Mrs. Cole's house. He lives at 127 Sutton Place. He's been playing big hero, the heart one, two, seven. Okay. You think you'll have the letter on him? Probably. I want your man to get that letter before he does whatever he wants with Black. Okay, do a good job, Boss. Of course you'll leave my name out of it. Oh, sure. Okay. Remember, I sell tomorrow night. Don't worry, Boss. It's in the bag. You tell yourself there's nothing to worry about anymore. Don't do more. You know you can depend on Whacky. Yes. Yet somehow you don't get much sleep that night, thinking about Black, the letter. And what it will mean if the district attorney gets his hands on it. You're tired when you wake up in the morning, drag Don Lowen. Finally, you put in a phone call. Whacky, this is Molly. How's it going? Don't get impatient, Boss. I've gone through Black's apartment. He's not there and the letter's not there. He's always keeping an eye on Mrs. Cole. Whacky, I gotta have action. This has got to be taken care of by tonight. And I told you it would be taken care of. You can trust me. All right, it's up to you, Whacky. Have you given careful instructions to your man? Sure, I have. Tell him just what you told me. Find the letter and then take care of Black. Okay. Yes. Listen, I'm on my way to the office now. Call me there if anything comes up. All right. You hurry to lunch. Determine to put it out of your mind. Leave everything to Whacky. Get as the day wears on. You find yourself becoming more and more nervous. Two o'clock. Three. Four. Still no word from Whacky. It isn't easy waiting, is it? Knowing that the letter linking you to the Sheridan murder is still in Laurence Black's possession. All your plans, your whole future, depends on getting that letter back. You paste the floor of your office. And finally, the phone rang. Jackson, this is Black. Do you mind yet? What? I said, have you made up your mind yet? Yes, I have. Where are you? Never mind where I am. Where's the money? How am I going to get it to you if you won't tell me where you are? I'll call you back later. We'll arrange to meet in a nice, safe place. So long. Wait a minute. You replace the receiver. Continue the paste the floor of your office, wondering what to do. And then you pause before the open window. Stare out over the city. Presently, you become conscious of the sound coming up from the street, five floors below. You hear it faintly in the distance. You look down on the street. There at the intersection, you see a nice crew, the red lantern, the workman with the air hammer. Suddenly, the realization fleets over you. The sound is the same you heard over the phone only a few minutes ago while you were talking with Larry Black. It's possible he called you from somewhere in the neighborhood, isn't it, Morty? Yes. Quickly, you step to your desk, take the gun from the drawer, market it, and then go downstairs. As you hurry down the street toward the intersection, you look into every shop, bar, cafe. Finally, you see him. Larry Black, paying you fill in the small diner near the corner. You step back out of sight and wait. You follow him as he turns the corner, walks down the almost deserted side street. Halfway up the block, he gets into a small coupé. You're right behind him. Hello, boy! I suppose we go for a little spin in your car. You drive, I'll give it a rest. Now look, Jackson, don't get going, Black. Okay. Well, if you think I'm afraid of that gun, you're wrong. You wouldn't take a chance like that. Hand it up your way, but just get going. Something like a nice ride out in the country, huh, Black? Look, Jackson, I don't know what you're up to, but whatever it is, it won't work. Okay, this is far enough. Stop the car. A nice view of the river down there. Listen, Jackson. Get out. You have the letter with you, I hope. You don't think I'd be sad enough to carry it with me, do you? I think so, yes. All right, this is as far as we go. Okay. Now hand me your coat. My coat? Yes. I want to take a look through those pockets. Suddenly, he swings the coat around and hits you in the face. An instant later, he punches into the brush, disappears into the darkness. You're rushing after him. You were a fool, weren't you, Morley? You let your guard down for only a moment and now panic sweeps over you as you realize he might get away. You fight your way deeper and deeper into the brush and then you stop. Listen. You're only the sound from the river. Suddenly, behind you a twig snaps. You whirl around as he jumps at you out of the darkness. His hand closes over your wrist and you struggle to bring the gun around. Stand there for a moment, staring down on him. He's dead, isn't he, Morley? Then you lean over, search through his pocket, but the letter isn't on him. It must be in the coat. You hurry back to the path where you dropped him. The coat's gone. Frantically, you look around. You can't understand what's happened to a canyon. You couldn't have been away more than five minutes and yet the coat is nowhere to be found. And then, suddenly, you hear voices, voices down by the river. Cautiously, you move toward them. Then you see it, a light, a small campfire and two men standing before it. One of them is holding up the coat. I'm telling you, I just come down the path and there it was. Some guy must have forgot it. Oh, is anything in it? Yeah, yeah, a cigarette, a lighter in this. Your heart thinks that you see him hand the letter. Your letter to the other man. You watch him as he reads. Then he shrugs his shoulders and tosses it to the ground. Well, the coat and the lighter's worth something anyway. Look, look, I know like this. You better get rid of that coat. Why, why? It's almost brand new. Sure, sure, but what about that shirt? Ah, watch out. I tell you, it was a car up there on the road. And I tell you, it was a shirt. So what if it was? We ain't done nothin'. Now sit down. Sit down and relax. You watch the two men as they sit down in front of the fire. One of them is playing with a cigarette lighter. And a few feet away from them is the letter. Your letter, more or less. You can't leave it there, can you? Not with Larry Black's body in the reed some fifty yards away. The minutes dragged by. And you stand there, wondering how long you're going to have to wait to become more and more tense. Quarter of an hour goes by and then... I don't like it. I don't like it, Riley. I ain't stickin' around. Ah, fuck, I love my mind. Get out of here. If you've got any sense, you'll do the same. And get rid of that coat. Now look, Ray. Suit yourself. I'm leaving. Okay, okay. But it's a swell coat. Wait up. You're wrong. You watch as the two men stomp out the fire and then move away. When they're out of sight, you hurry into the clearing. Yes, there's the coat and the letter. And then you're startled by a voice. I'm gonna make sure that fire's out and pick up that coat. It's one of the men you've just seen. You've got to move fast. You grab the letter, flip it into your coat pocket and run up the path to the car and drive back toward town. It's almost nine o'clock when you reach the outskirts of town. You leave Black's car on a side street. Take a taxi downtown. Make a phone call. Hello, Wacky. Oh, hello. He must have left town with my man and keep him an eye on Mrs. Cole and I. He left down alright. He's taking a long, long trip. What do you mean? Forget it, Wacky. You know, it's all over. Yes, but after all the trouble we went through... Don't worry, your boy'll get his money just as soon. Fine, fine, boy. I'll tell him to stop tailing Mrs. Cole right away. That's right. I can't, Wacky. I don't even have time to go back to my apartment. I'm having my things sent down to the boat. We'll have that drink when I get back. Okay? Okay. Well, phone fight, Marley. Phone fight. Most automobile batteries look much alike from the outside. You may have gotten the idea that all batteries are alike. But if you could look inside a new signal-deluxe battery, you'd see an amazing difference. A difference that engineers have called the greatest improvement in battery construction in 20 years. I'm talking about the micro porous all-rubber separators, which hold twice as much acid solution between the plates. Because these improved separators help new signal-deluxe batteries deliver up to 35% more power, you enjoy three important benefits. You're assured quicker cold weather starting. You have plenty of reserved power for the many electrical gadgets on today's cars. And the extra long life of new signal-deluxe batteries makes it possible for signal dealers to guarantee them for a full 30 months on a service basis. That means it actually costs you less per month to enjoy the dependable, trouble-free performance of a signal-deluxe battery. What more signal dealers are now giving generous paid-in allowance for old batteries, plus liberal credit terms. So if you need a new battery, remember the name of today's best battery buy, a signal-deluxe battery. Remember where to get it at Signal Service Station. The threat to your future has been eliminated. And as you hurry down to the waterfront, you congratulate yourself. Everything has worked out as you knew it would. Larry Black is dead. And the letter that would have sent you to prison for life rests safely in your inside coat box. Now there's a pleasant voyage ahead for you. South America and your wife Constance waiting there. As you arrive at the dock, you realize the murder gun is still in your pocket. You've got to get rid of it. Destroy the letter, too. You flip away from the small crowd. Hurry along a dark, deserted war from your bar. Then, as you're about to toss the gun into the water, you hear footsteps. You flip the gun back into your pocket. Mr. Jackson. Why, Mrs. Cole. Well, I understand your feeling tonight. That's right. But the money... I thought I made that quite clear to you. I don't owe you a cent. Oh, but Fred told me. He wouldn't lie, Mr. Jackson. Don't be ridiculous. Very well. I can see I'm wasting my time talking to you. However, I'm sure your wife will have that money we paid. She'll listen to me. Good night. Wait. Wait a minute. This fifth package you won the point of the jaw and you dropped to your knees. As you try to shake the fog from your brain, you feel his hand in your coat pocket. You open your eyes and struggle to bring him into focus. You see the glow of his cigarette lighter and the letter morning. The one you took from Larry Black. He's reading it. This is what I want, Sally. Suddenly you realize who he is. The trigger man. Waxi's trigger man. And Waxi wasn't able to call him off. He was following Mrs. Cole. She let him straight to you. Then, as he pulls the gun out of his pocket... No, don't shoot! I'm not black! Your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler, is 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 the Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles 55, California. All limericks become the property of the 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 competition. Produced and directed by Jorley, by Harrison Meggley, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops over seas 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 is helping not just one organization, but many worthwhile causes that directly benefit four out of every ten families. Just stop and think of that when you're deciding how much to give to the community chat. Marvin Miller speaking, this is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.