The next morning. The John Lennon L.P. has vanished from the bookcase.

Patrick, alone, sitting on the sofa, looking through some papers, sipping at a cup of coffee. The radio is on, an early morning news bulletin, of which Patrick takes no notice whatsoever, unless a particularly appalling piece of news catches his attention briefly. He puts down the papers, finishes his coffee, looks at his watch, reacts, exits hurriedly to the kitchen. Sounds of washing-up. He crosses to the mirror, checks his tie, starts to move away from the mirror, stops, looks at himself again, dismayed, then exits to the bedroom. He returns a moment later doing up a minimally different tie. He finishes tying it in front of the mirror, then his hand moves to his chin as he notices he is unshaven. Back to the bedroom, to return with a battery shaver, already running. He shaves in front of the mirror, shining his shoes on the back of his trousers as he does so. He turns off the shaver, checks his chin dubiously, then puts the shaver into the briefcase which stands ready by the hall door. He looks at his watch again, then dives into the hall and returns a moment later, struggling into a light raincoat. He picks up the briefcase, stands thinking, then puts the briefcase down and crosses to the dining-recess, where he stands for a moment peering out of the window. He opens the window and stretches his arm out. Then he closes the window and hurries across the room, exiting to the hall. A moment later, he re-appears to fetch his briefcase, holding an umbrella. He picks up his briefcase, stands for a moment, a strained expression on his face, then exits by the hall door. The front door slams. Sound of receding footsteps. Silence. Sound of returning footsteps. Key in the lock. Patrick re-enters. He crosses to the sofa, puts down his umbrella, picks up the papers, fumbles them into his briefcase, picks up his umbrella and strides out to the hall, closing the door behind him. The door instantly re-opens, he appears, puts down his umbrella, crosses to the radio and switches it off. Back to the hall door, where he pauses, turns to contemplate the room and pats at his pockets with his free hand, making a final check. Then he exits, leaving his umbrella behind. The front door slams.