as she comes up the steps again and walks toward the counter.
stepping out of the elevator as the doors open. the man is right behind her. she begins looking for apartment 3b. the man is walking down the corridor beside her. she stops in front of the apartment, hesitates, hoping the man will turn the corner in the corridor. instead, he stops at the apartment just opposite. he begins fumbling in his pocket for his key. he looks at melanie.
passing the mail box and going up the walk to the front door. the house is a two-story frame with steps leading to the front door. there are white curtains in every window of the house, and a sign in the window to the left of the doorway advises, room to let. melanie rings the doorbell.
walking along the porch of the house. the walk in front of the house is lined with beautifully planted and cared-for flowers. annie hayworth comes round from the back of the house as melanie reaches the corner. she is a woman of thirty- two, tall, big-boned, with a strong beautiful face. her hair is disarrayed at the moment, and she is dressed for the garden, wearing slacks and a loose-fitting sweater, and earth- stained gloves. but there is something about her, a feeling of expansive comfort, rather than sloppiness.
coming down the steps from the attic room. the house is empty. the camera follows her into the dining room, where she stops at the cage of lovebirds, bends down to them with a smile on her face.
leaving the cage. she walks to the sideboard upon which is an electric coffee percolator which is plugged into the wall. she feels it with her hand. it is hot. she pours a cup, then peers out of the side window.
coming out of the house and into the garden, carrying the cup of coffee. it is a beautiful day. she sips at her coffee and then breathes deeply of the air.
as she turns away from the house and begins walking in the garden, sipping idly at her coffee. a screen door clatters again. she turns.
as she goes through the house, checking. she stops in the entry hall, plays the flashlight over the furniture piled against the door. everything seems all right. she goes into the kitchen, again, checks the door, and then plays the beam on the boarded windows. satisfied, she goes down the corridor outside the bedroom. she opens the first bedroom door, enters, goes to the windows, plays the beam on them. everything's all right. she comes into the corridor again, opens the second bedroom door, again checks windows, and leaves.
climbing the steps to the attic. she stops outside the first door upstairs, opens it, goes into the room, plays the light on the windows. nothing. she comes out into the corridor, goes to the second bedroom, opens the door, enters, walks to the windows. they are boarded securely. she is starting back toward the door when she stops.
backing to the door. the owl hits her, sends her staggering back, causing the door to slam shut. she looks up at the