Feature Story

The Whistler. I'm 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. Members of the United States are offering a hint of things to look for in the ever-developing story of the United States Air Force.

Feature story was hot and clear as Darrow and Hazel Martin drove into the Southern California town of Mattson not far from the Mexican border. They were youngish, well dressed and prosperous looking as they parked their new brightly polished sedan in front of the Star Cafe.

And there's a sound reason for this appearance of prosperity isn't there Darrow? It, selling worthless stock in barren mines requires a successful front. And you and Hazel have been doing quite well, haven't you? After a leisurely meal you glance through the local paper looking for likely prospects.

And then suddenly you notice an item of far greater interest. You read the story quickly. Then reread it slowly and carefully. Well, what's so interesting, Darryl? I wonder if it could be. Be reading. Mm-hmm.

Start here. Look at that, Cecil. Uh, Joe Gibson, funeral today. Who's he? Well, you wouldn't know him, but there was a Joe Gibson in the pen when I was serving that term for forgery. He'd embezzled a lot of money, hit it somewhere, and nobody could find it.

Oh? How much? 75,000 dollars. 75,000 dollars? Mm-hmm. Waiting for him when he got out of prison? Yeah. Please leave, pardon me, at least we think if you've been. You never told anybody about it, he denied it all.