I am woken by my captor with a fresh cup of tea. Even with his look of distaste, it is impossible for him to be impolite and not offer hospitality to a guest. Again, I have to bite back my laughter.

Breakfast follows swiftly and then we all make our way to the bank. The overly earnest fellow gives me a black look then hands over the cheque to the teller. His mask of civility slips as he stares fixedly at me while dealing with the teller. It slips further when the teller returns with the money and an assurance that the signature is genuine.

I finally allow myself a smile and leave the assembled mob to whatever business they intend for the money. Outside, it is a fine and cold day. A brisk walk takes me to my lodgings where I feed my lack of decent sleep with a half bottle of brandy before letting the darkness take me again. My last thought before sleep is that I must get a bank account in my name, but whether this is my own thought, or one coming from the other, I can't tell.