Confession

Have you heard the strange tales of the Whistler? I'm the Whistler. Sylvia warned me. She told me about you. Now I know why.

She was telling the truth. She knows you, Frank Girard. She said you were no good. Another Sunday night, and again CBS presents the Whistler. I, the Whistler, know 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 unusual story of the confession. The courthouse walls of a county in an eastern state have echoed for many years the vibrant persuasive voice of William Marshall.

Marshall has defended countless numbers of persons great and small who have become entangled in the measures of the law. And he has never lost the case. The great criminal lawyer attributes his success to the fact that he has never taken a case in which she was not convinced that the defendant was either innocent or the victim of unfortunate circumstances.

At the moment in the anti-rule of Marshall's office, a beautiful young girl and a handsome man of 30, wait for an audience for the attorney. After some 15 minutes of waiting, the girl speaks to the handsome man.

Pardon me, but are you in a terrible hurry to see Mr. Marshall? Well, I know. No, that is. My business can wait a few moments. Well, I'd appreciate it so much if I could see him first.

I'll only be a few minutes. I just got off the train and I've got to see him. I see. Is it really as bad as all that? What? You sound as though you're in terrible trouble.