A precious minute goes to waste as Dick turns the tablet over in his hands, marveling at its sudden and absolute silence. Then, reluctantly, with a stern reminder to himself that he'd been borrowing the gadget, he places it with the watch and cigarettes on the other side of the bed.

The whisky bottle is trickier: even up on his tiptoes he scarcely reaches the bottom of one of the room's cabinets. He has to jump and pull it open, jump again and half-shove, half-throw the bottle into its depths. It lands with an alarming thud but there's no sound of liquid spilling out.

When the knock comes the bed's still in disarray. He smooths and straightens the sheets and yanks the bedspread back into place.

He answers the door short of breath.