Silent City

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 before 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 Signal Oil program, the Whistler, rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history.

And Signal gasoline is tops too, tops in quality. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And Signal is the famous Go Father gasoline. So look for the Signal Circle sign in yellow and black that identifies friendly dealer-owned signal stations from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler Strange story, the Silent City.

For fifteen years George Malcolm had been a reader for the Latimer Publishing Company. Fifteen years plowing through the tangled syntax, the dull metaphors, the silly little scribblings of people who think they can write without learning how, and he was sick of it. Why George Malcolm knew more about writing than they ever would. However, he hadn't been able to

sell that idea to his boss, Mr. Latimer, though he'd tried time and time again without success. Yes, George Malcolm knew the meaning of the word, frustration too well. But on that morning early in April, as he walked to the Mr. Latimer's office to try again, George didn't realize that he would also soon learn the meaning of the word, murder.

Mr. Labe. Oh, yes, George, you want to see me? Yes, sir. I've written a few chapters of a new novel. Oh, no, George, really. You haven't been writing again. Oh, this time, Mr. Labe, I think I've hit a song.