The Mark of the Whistler

I am the Whistler,

and I know many strange tales,

many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women

who have stepped into the shadows.

Tonight, I am keeping a strange rendezvous.

This man is a human derelict.

Broke, discouraged, unable to hold a job

because of ill health.

His name is Lee Selfridge Nugent.

I knew him in better days,

when he possessed money, power, influence.

But fate decreed that those material things should slip away,

and that I, the Whistler, should find him tonight,

alone in a strange city, on this park bench.

What can the future hold for a man like this?

Ironic, isn't it?

These people all have money in the bank, waiting for them,

yet, for some reason, they do not come to claim it.

Coincidence. That's all it is.

You're not the Lee Nugent they're looking for.

You are Lee Selfridge Nugent.

Your mother's name was Mary, not Stella.

Forget about it.

Desperation prompts this man

to think that he can compromise with his conscience.

We shall see how he fares.

Strike him out, Herman! He can't touch us! Strike him out!

It's a great game, isn't it?

Nah, it's awful.

Wish I could get in there. I'd show 'em!

I'll bet you would.

Do you watch 'em play every day?

Sure. Except on the days when I have to go to the clinic.

Gee, thanks!

Herman!

That's Herman.

-That was a good throw. -Thanks.

You know something?

At the clinic yesterday, a lady from Australia

told me that, maybe next year, I could walk.

And, after that, maybe, if I exercised right,

I could even play ball.

-Say, wouldn't that be somethin'? -I'll say!

Say, where did the kids play ball before the building was torn down?

What building?

Wasn't there a building on this lot?

No. It's always been just a lot.

Oh.

Well, goodbye, son.

You're gonna be a great ball player some day.

Thanks.

Come on, Herman! Give him another fast one!

Come on!

Good morning.

If you're lookin' for a vacancy, there ain't any.

If you're sellin' something, I won't buy it.

And if you're beggin', you can just run along.

There's plenty of work for those that want it.

I was wondering about that vacant lot.

How long was that building torn down that was on it?

Wasn't torn down, it burned down.

Burned down, huh? How long ago was that?

Oh, long before I moved in this block,

and I've lived here for twenty years.

Say, you ain't one of them carnival fellas that's plannin'

on puttin' one of them noisy merry-go-rounds on that lot, are ya?

I warn ya, I won't stand for it.

I had the police on the last one that tried it.

Madam, I assure you, I'm not interested

in putting a merry-go-round on that lot.

But I am considering it for a shooting gallery.

-Nice dog you got here. -Yeah.

Mike's a swell dog. Intelligent, too.

Yeah? Hello, Mike.

You know, he knows quicker than we do

when our number comes on the alarm bell.

Then he beats the men to his place on the hook-and-ladder.

-Yeah. -Hiya, Mike.

Any big fires lately?

No. Been kinda dull lately.

Last big one was that Acme Warehouse fire, about a year ago.

They tell me you had a big one, a real big one,

down here some time ago.

Read Street, apartment building. It's probably before your time.

Oh, no. I remember it just like it was yesterday.

Yeah?

-Seven people died in that fire. -Seven?

Yeah. Three of 'em missed the net when they jumped from the sixth floor.

Awful mess.

Read Street? That used to be a fashionable neighbourhood.

Not tenements, like it is now.

Oh, well, you know. Time changes neighbourhoods.

How long ago was that, exactly?

I never forget a big one.

That was October. Early October, 1912.

-Long ago as that, huh? -Yup.

I was sittin' right here, in front of the old firehouse,

just as I am now, readin' the political news

when the alarm came in.

That was the year that, er...

Woodrow Wilson, Bill Taft and Teddy Roosevelt

were all havin' a battle royal for President.

The Democratic jackass outrun Taft's elephant and Teddy's bull moose,

and Wilson was elected.

Doggonest political fight you ever saw.

Reckon you don't remember much about that campaign, do ya?

1912?

Well, I was just a boy at the time. Er...

Twelve years old, to be exact.

Yeah, I... I was just twelve years old.

That's the file of the Daily Register for October 1912.

-I hope it helps you. -I hope so.

Did you find what you wanted?

Exactly what I wanted. Thank you.

I hardly think I can help you locate Lee Nugent.

Our records show he was placed in a private home,

six months after the death of his mother and sister.

Have you the name and address of the people who gave him a home?

Yes, I do.

A Mr and Mrs Henry Carlson.

They lived at 1 1816 Runnymede Street,

but this information is of little value.

Lee ran away from home, the Carlson home, in 1915,

and hasn't been heard of since.

Mr and Mrs Carlson died some years ago.

I see.

About Lee's father...

Have you any information regarding him?

Only that he and Mrs Nugent were separated,

and an effort was made to find them in 1912,

when the boy became a ward of this society.

Er... There is a notation here that he was reported to be

somewhere in South America at the time.

I'm sorry I can't give you any more information.

Well, you've been very kind.

-Thank you very much. -You're quite welcome.

You want somethin', brother?

Depends on how much of a gambler you are.

I never gamble.

If it's a suit you want, I can sell it to you cheap.

-But for cash. -Oh, I haven't any cash at the moment.

Then come back the moment you have it.

Well, that won't do. I have to have a suit in order to get the cash.

-Let me show you something. -If it ain't cash,

-I don't wanna look at it. -Yeah, but look this over.

This is good for cash. Maybe a lot of it. Now, look.

All I see is a piece of old newspaper,

and for that you'll get no suit in this store.

Now, do me a favour, and go away.

Okay, if you're not interested in making a hundred percent profit

on a very small investment, I'll find somebody who is.

Wait a minute, brother.

Did you say, "a hundred percent"?

Yes.

On, er... how small an investment?

The price of a suit, and enough money for food and lodging

in a cheap hotel, until I can claim a dormant account

that's waiting for me at the Standard Savings Bank.

Here, look...

Here's my name on the list in their advertisement.

-Mm-hmm. -You can't lose.

How do I know you are Lee Nugent?

The government says I am.

Here's my social security card.

-See? -Mmm.

The whole gamble amounts to about sixty dollars.

Twenty dollars for the suit, and the balance for...

for expenses, until I claim the account.

Mm-hmm.

What if there ain't sixty dollars in the account?

Oh, but there's sure to be. It says right there

that every account's over a hundred dollars.

Come on, give me a suit and forty dollars in cash,

and I'll get a cheap hotel room.

Oh, no.

You'll take no forty bucks of mine.

If I'm going into this thing, I gotta protect my investment.

In a hotel, I might not find you when you get the money.

If you get it.

I got an apartment upstairs.

You'll move in with me.

Then, if you don't get the money, you give me back my suit,

and all I'm out's the food you eat while you're here.

That's my final proposition. Take it or leave it, brother.

You're a shrewd trader, but it's a deal.

You goin' somewhere?

-Yeah, to mail a letter. -I'll go with ya.

Oh, yes, good idea.

Er... You-You can keep an eye on your suit.

I haven't any money for a postage stamp.

Oh, you can get me a packet of cigarettes, too, huh?

I'll be with you in a minute.

Okay, brother, I'm ready.

-Good morning, Mr Sorsby. -Good morning. Got a letter for me?

No, there's one here for a man named Lee Nugent,

in care of you. Er... Do you know him?

Yeah, he-he's staying with me for a while.

-I'll see that he gets it. -Oh, okay.

A letter came for ya.

Put it on the table in the living room. I'll get it later.