Man from Calais

The Whistler, presented by the United States Air Forces in Europe. I'm 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. The Whistler's strange story, Man from Calais. and a thick grey blanket of fog had descended over the city.

As Laura Ames, former American, now of London, hurried along the deserted residential street, she stopped occasionally, glanced over her shoulder and listened, and then hurried on again. Certain at the unseen footsteps she'd been hearing in the grey fog behind her, were those of someone deliberately following her.

As she turned into a delevent square and broke into a half run, Laura was trembling with fright. And you have good reason to be frightened, haven't you, Laura? You have had for two days. When you finally reach the steps of your rooming house, you fumble frantically in your purse.

Houskies, Laura, you couldn't have lost them. But you don't seem to have them. And back there in the fog, the footsteps coming closer and closer. Oh, dearie. Oh, Mrs. Reese, thank goodness. Oh, you're so late coming home from the office.

Yes. There were some last minute letters to get out. Dear me, I was becoming quite worried. All this fog and what would that killer want in around the streets? Why, dearie, you're shivering. I'll be all right.

Here, let me fix you some teeth. Oh, no, don't bother. You're going out? Yes, but not alone, mind you. My son, Frank and his wife, are taking me to the cinema. Only take me a moment to fix your teeth.