Phone Call from Death

Signal gasoline. Signal. The new gasoline you can prove is superior. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by the Whistler. Tonight, phone call from death.

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.

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. You know the old saying. But have you ever thought how that thought must grangle in the minds of women to whom it is applied? Ellen Livissey, for instance. Ellen always seemed to lose out with the men she set her cap for, and who can say what emotion plagued her, and now that she could no longer be called a young woman.

She didn't show it, of course. Even when men came to her about their troubles with other women, like Glenn Reed. It's maddening, Ellen. What am I going to do about her? There's nothing much anyone can do when a girl falls in love.

Don't say that. She's not in love with Paul Carroll. She can't be. Glenn, pull yourself together. I'm sorry. I know what Sheila means to you, but you can't deny reality, Glenn. The fact is, Sheila's met someone else and there isn't anything you can do about it.

two months ago she was going to marry me. I didn't know that. Well, not a definite promise, but until Carol came along. What has she told you about him? Glenn, you can hardly expect me to tell you what you want.