we now see the source of the piano music. it comes from the apartment with the studio window which we saw earlier where the man was shaving and listening to the radio. the short, balding man sits at the piano playing a few notes, then transferring them by pencil to notepaper on the piano rack. he continues this process, fighting the interference of the ballet music. the opening bars of his melody are beautiful and ear-catching.
we see a three-storied, flat-roofed apartment house.
the salesman looks toward the bedroom door, hesitates, then reluctantly walks toward it. for a moment he is hidden by the wall.
the man enters the bedroom. we can see a woman lying on the far bed. near her, a small table is covered with medicine bottles, spoons, boxes of pills, a water pitcher and the other impedimenta of the chronically ill. the woman sits up as the man enters. she takes a wet cloth off her forehead. before the man even reaches her, she begins talking, somewhat vigorously. pointing to a wristwatch, she seems to be saying something such as "you should have been home two hours ago! i could be lying here dying for all you'd know -- or care!" the man stops short of the bed, makes gestures of trying to placate her, but she goes on scolding. his attitude changes to weary patience, then irritation, then anger.
we see the man who left his apartment in anger come out of the doorway into the backyard. he is easy to identify through the color of his garish necktie. in one hand the man carries a small garden hoe and rake, and in the other a pair of trimming shears. he goes to a small patch of flowers, perhaps three feet square.
into the next door yard we see emerging from the apartment below the ballet dancer, the elderly lady.
the elderly lady is now asleep in her deck chair, her face covered with the herald tribune. there is no sign of the man with the flowers.
she is sitting near the window looking into an upright mirror. dreamily, and methodically, she is brushing her long copper- colored hair.
he is now looking at the windows of the apartments nearest to him. a shade has gone up, and a man, obviously a caretaker is raising a window with some effort. having accomplished this, he turns back into the room, and we now see him approach a young man and woman who are standing just inside the doorway. he hands a key to the young man, and then obligingly brings in two suitcases which he places on the floor beside them. he gives them a studied, but agreeable nod, then departs.
the salesman, having just raised the shades in the living room, is now looking out the window. it is not a casual look, but a long, careful, searching appraisal of all the apartment house windows in his neighborhood, starting from his left to his right. his eyes move closer toward jeff's apartment.
the salesman completes his searching glance at the neighborhood. then something directly below his window catches his attention. he looks sharply downward, his body visibly tensing.
the camera moves forward, and as it reaches the edge of the window, pans down and shows us what the salesman is looking at. the little dog that was lowered in the basket is sniffing at the salesman's personal flower bed.
the salesman leans forward and grips the window sill as he watches the dog. the camera pans down and we now see that the old lady with the hearing aid is leaning over the fence admonishing the dog. we can faintly hear her voice saying something to the effect that he'll get into trouble. the dog turns to glance at her and apparently taking heed, moves away. the old lady is wearing a faded house-robe.
the salesman has his aluminum case on the table near the center of the room. he is carefully wiping out the interior with dust cloth.
the salesman has completed his cleaning of the case. he is in the act of placing it on the floor. he turns and again glances out of the window.
thorwald's apartment. the shades up. no one moving.
the camera pans up past the woman lowering the dog, up to the roof where one of the sunbathers can be seen sitting up, rubbing her body with sun tan oil.
thorwald's apartment. we are now aware that the salesman is now in his living room, lying out of sight on the sofa, because the smoke from a newly lighted cigar is starting to ascend toward the ceiling of his room.
miss torso, in ballet outfit, is hanging up a small wash on a clothes line. it consists mostly of lingerie. she is doing her inevitable leg practice at the same time.
two men wearing tan coveralls are standing outside thorwald's door. one of them carries a clipboard.
the little dog is busily scratching away at thorwald's pet flower bed.
thorwald coming out of his basement door, carrying a watering can. he fills it from a nearby faucet. he does not notice the little dog's destructive activities.
miss torso, in ballet costume, practicing her dance on the outside balcony. she is exciting and desirable.