The door of the living room is open and voices can be heard outside. Dr. Kreuzer enters, followed by Corner. Kreuzer is an elderly man with a tough, kindly face, obviously in a state of anxiety. Corner is in the early thirties—thin and nervous, a heavy smoker. Kreuzer wears an overcoat. Corner is obviously at home. He clears newspapers from a chair for Kreuzer.

CORNER: Come in, Dr. Kreuzer. Callifer’s spoken of you many a time.

KREUZER: You’re Mr. Corner, aren’t you? He’s spoken of you, too. The only real reporter the Globe has, he says.

CORNER: He doesn’t say it to me. Sit down and wait, Dr. Kreuzer. He must be back soon.

KREUZER: Haven’t you seen him this morning?

CORNER: Not since breakfast. He said he had an appointment with you and methedrine. Sounds like a girl.

KREUZER: Not unlike, Mr. Corner. It makes a shy man talk. Callifer left me two hours ago. I must get hold of him. Have you a phone here?

CORNER: I wouldn’t use it if I were you. It’s a party line. Unless it’s an emergency. Is it?

KREUZER: I don’t know. I wish I did.

CORNER: What’s happened?

KREUZER: He took something from my desk which I need back.

CORNER: Stole it?

KREUZER: No, no. A patient doesn’t steal. It was my fault. (He can’t keep still. He gets up and walks around.)

CORNER: What’s wrong with him, Doctor?

KREUZER: I don’t know.

CORNER: We all have moods.

KREUZER: Some moods are blacker than others.

CORNER: But he’s good at his job. Or he wouldn’t have stayed five years on the Globe.

KREUZER (hardly listening): When he takes a walk, where does he go?

CORNER: He used to go along the Trent when he had the dog. Or down to the goose market.

KREUZER: Hasn’t he got the dog still?

CORNER: It ran away.

KREUZER: I’m sorry.

CORNER: He didn’t seem to mind.

KREUZER: I wonder why he didn’t tell me about it?

CORNER: Perhaps it wasn’t important enough.

KREUZER: You live with him, Mr. Corner. What is important to him?

CORNER: I wouldn’t know.

The door opens and James enters. He is still in an exalted state from the methedrine.

JAMES: Well, well—so you’ve hunted me down to my digs, Dr. Kreuzer. Digs—the word sounds like an animal’s hole, doesn’t it?

KREUZER: I wanted to see the kind of place you live in. It’s a bit anonymous.