Masters Tree

Signal gasoline. Let every traffic signal remind you. You do go farther with signal gasoline. Yes, you do go farther with signal. The signal oil company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by the Whistler.

Tonight, the master's tree. I am the Whistler, and I know many things, or 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. There's an old adage about letting sleeping dogs lie, but sometimes that's not so easy. Sometimes they won't lie still. Sometimes they walk in the night.

We might have warned Alice Towers and the people of the little English village of Wicley about that, but they probably wouldn't have noticed. The mysterious disappearance of Philip Towers five years ago was all but forgotten, and the flood that had just engulfed the surrounding countryside was still the main topic of conversation.

And that was when Alice Towers came home, arriving at the little station on the 1015. Miss Ellis? Oh, Miss Ellis? Yes, and me. Welcome home, Miss Ellis. Oh, thank you, Anthony. Oh, it's so glitty here.

Welcome up for all the years, Miss Ellis. Even after I married, I was always Miss Ellis to you. Yes, ma'am. He didn't mind the gym. Oh, of course not, Anthony. And it's good to see you.

Miss Milridson be down to meet you. Gee and Mr. Jeffrey be waiting at home. The weather be so miserable. Of course, of course. I wouldn't have had them transfer code. You've had very bad weather for some time now.