Fools Gold

Have you heard the strange tales of the Whistler? I'm the Whistler. My plan is sound, mathematically sound. It cannot fail. It's perfect. Three months from now, I will be worth $50,000, independent for life.

Another Sunday night, and again CBS presents the Whistler. In a whiffler, no many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows.

And so I tell you tonight the amazing tale of Fools Gold. Herbert Lang's chief teller of the amalgamated bank, a thrifty man of forty-three, Herbert has been an employee, the small salary for over 20 years.

Honest and punctual, his reputation is above reproach. Herbert's sins, likely bald, be spectacle and unmarried. Herbert is a poor man, but he has a plan. He won't always be poor, because he's developed his plan for ten years.

And ten years should bring mathematical perfection to any plan. The five years now it has been working. By the first of June, three months from now, I will be worth $50,000. Herbert studies the figures on the little pad before him, writes a total of 50,000, and smiles behind his bifocals, then an abrupt sound breaks his meditation.

Herbert, the auditor's just found another shortage, an increased shortage of another? Yes. $3,000. They've traced it? Definitely. Third one this year. And to whom did they trace it, Mr. Faber? That young fellow button. He denies it, of course, but the evidence is all against him.

But I can't understand what happened to young men lately. I do my best to hire the ones I think around him. I wish you would exercise a little more care. Oh, I know where they have the best of references.