Debt of Honor

And now stay tuned for the program that has rated pops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil Program for Whistler. Errrrrr, time!

Invite you to sit back and enjoy another strange story. By the Whistler. For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico.

And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies the signal oil program. The Whistler. I'm the Whistler. And I know many things, all I walk by night.

I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadow. Hmm. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now the Whistler's Harley Jackson, ruggedly handsome, to bring slightly about the temple, was regarded as a respectable citizen now,

financially independent, and socially acceptable to those who knew nothing of his past, a past which was actually the present too. For down inside, Morley Jackson hadn't changed, never would. Sitting at his desk now, he ran a finger along the smooth polished mahogany.

His eyes wandered around the room, So luxuriously furnished office. Reflections of his apparent success as an important one. Yes, it was a far cry from the old days, the prohibition era of running the Jackson mark.

Now there was only one thing in the room that reminded him of those days. A short, heavy set man sitting in the chair opposite, puffing quietly on an expensive cigar. I just like old times talking like their sample.