Judas Face

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, or I walk by night. I know many strains, tales, hidden in the hearts of men and women, who have shadows.

Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Yes friends, it's time for the Whistler, rated by independent research, the most popular West Coast radio program. And remember, let every traffic signal remind you, with new signal gasoline you do go farther than ever.

Look for the familiar big yellow and black circle sign that identifies those popular signal service stations throughout the West, from Canada to Mexico. And now the Whistler's strange story, the Judas face, the movie style lay on the hospital bed, looking up at the white ceiling through narrow slits in the efficient mask of gauze and tape which covered her face.

A million dollar face the trade vapors had called it. With sparkling blue eyes, a delicate nose and passionate full lips. Yes, in every sense of the word, the face of Sandra Dane was her fortune.

Then in ten seconds, everything had changed. There was an afternoon horseback ride with Janet Blaslow, her stand-in, a gust of wind, Janet silked scar from the horse's eyes, a terrified plunge of fall, flying hooves all around her in blackness.

Then the hospital smelled. Quiet, efficient Dr. Rogers and his quiet, efficient staff. Janet and Gordon West are producers, visiting her every afternoon. All of them kind and sympathetic. All of them knowing that the million dollar face might be gone forever.

That behind the mask of bandages was a question mark. Well, those are the staring at me, Gordon, darling. The end of the world hasn't come, you know? Of course not, Sandy. I hope not. Janet, dear, it won't be true of all.