Panic

The Signal Oil Program, the Whistler. That Whistler is your signal for the Signal Oil Program, the Whistler. I'm 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. 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 in seven western states from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story. Panic! Leora had been on his mind all morning.

He tried not to think of her, tried to throw himself into the office routine, dragged out all the things he'd set aside during the past month, told his secretary they were going to work late.

Then by one in the afternoon he found himself slipping, letting his mind relax and settle on Leora again. And at three he discovered he was dictating nonsense to his secretary. At that point, he stopped suddenly and deliberately thought of Leora, of her leaving tonight, walking out of his life forever.

An hour later he was hurrying out of the passport office on his way to the steamship agency. Yes, sir? Er, I believe Mr. and Mrs. Charles Muffida listed on tonight's sailing. Would you check it for me please?

Of course, sir. Hm. Midnight's sailing better than you. Yes, here we are. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Muffid, A.D.E. The deck cabin 12. Is there any space left on that ship? Well, as a matter of fact, sir, the cancellation right here.