Oct 14, 2026 · 29 min · 10 segments
"The Whistler" was a popular and long-running American radio mystery drama that aired from May 16, 1942, until September 22, 1955, primarily on the west-coast regional CBS radio network. It was known…
[thunder] A storm rages wildly over the countryside.
Beyond that long row of trees stands a lonely house, half hidden in the darkness of the night.
Not a single light appears from any of its many windows.
But up there in that room with the large window, a man stirs fretfully in his sleep.
The man is Ambrose Brent, an official of an airplane plant.
But it's not the storm that stirs his uneasy slumber.
It's something else, something far more sinister, something that has happened many times in the past few weeks.
[thunder] Now he stirs again, moans loudly, and suddenly sits bolt upright in his huge bed.
Who's there? Who's there, I say.
It's funny.
I could've sworn I heard something.
I swear I felt someone in the room.
Turn on the lamp, Ambrose.
You'll see.
I can't imagine what's happening to me.
It's just nerves, I guess.
It's just...
Good Lord, another note.
Another one.
I must kill Henry.
I must kill Henry.
That's the third note this week in my own handwriting.
I've got to do something.
I've got to tell someone.
Henry's my best friend.
[thunder] A storm rages wildly over the countryside.
Beyond that long row of trees stands a lonely house, half hidden in the darkness of the night.
Not a single light appears from any of its many windows.
But up there in that room with the large window, a man stirs fretfully in his sleep.
The man is Ambrose Brent, an official of an airplane plant.
But it's not the storm that stirs his uneasy slumber.
It's something else, something far more sinister, something that has happened many times in the past few weeks.
[thunder] Now he stirs again, moans loudly, and suddenly sits bolt upright in his huge bed.
Who's there? Who's there, I say.
It's funny.
I could've sworn I heard something.
I swear I felt someone in the room.
Turn on the lamp, Ambrose.
You'll see.
I can't imagine what's happening to me.
It's just nerves, I guess.
It's just...
Good Lord, another note.
Another one.
I must kill Henry.
I must kill Henry.
That's the third note this week in my own handwriting.
I've got to do something.
I've got to tell someone.
Henry's my best friend.
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