A Matter of Courtesy

And now stay tuned for the Mystery Program that is unique among all Mystery Programs. Because even when you know who is guilty, you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain. In 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.

And now for the signal oil company, the Whistler's Strange Story, a matter of courtesy. Everybody loved Cressy Carlos. Everybody said they'd never known anyone quite like her. Her heart, they said, was as big as she was, and Cressy was a big woman.

She had a generous wide-open frankness about her. The hearty friendliness that penetrated the quick stinging wit that made her famous. Yes, everybody loved Cressy Carlos. Everybody except perhaps her husband, Matt. The two of them owned and operated Club Carlos, the most successful and expensive of all the night spots in time.

A Julie Bradford featured singer at the club with singing a big number. Cressy moved about and joked to the kid of the customers, and they ate it up. Hiya, Cressy. How about it to count the suckers?

Hello Jack, nice to be a stand enough for a chair. It's your prices who can buy enough to do otherwise. You're wrong Jack, we don't charge enough. We wouldn't still be getting bums like you.

They think you're a character don't they Chris. You leave them with a smile. But you always get the last withering word don't you? You move from the bar, make your way through the tightly packed tables until you reach your own.