Confession

The signal oil program, the Whistler, that whistle, is your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. 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. Yes friends, it's time for the Whistler, rated by Independent Research, the most popular West Coast radio program.

And remember, let every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline you do go farther than ever. Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations throughout the West from Canada to Mexico.

And now the Whistler's strange story. Confession. Only a week before a Marty Heath had thought to himself how wonderful it was to be a part of New York in the spring, with a grass turning green in central park and the crocuses blooming in the flowerbed.

Just a week ago. Now it was different. It was a cold city, a city without a heart. Here's something that happened to Marty Heath that had taken the heart out of everything. had lost its purpose. Nothing had meaning anymore. He smiled bitterly to himself and crossed his fingers as he walked to the revolving door into the main office of the Ajax Life Insurance Company

and across the cold marble floor to the application counter. The clerk was efficient and artificially friendly, just like all the rest of them. My name is Martin Heath. I was here yesterday afternoon. Martin Heath. Oh yes, I have your application.

Let's see. Married wife, Clara Heath, living at 28 E 64 Street. No other defendants. That's right. The application was for a $20,000 policy, wasn't it? That's right payable to my wife. Yes. Take effect tomorrow.