JACK
Let go, sir!
FATHER
(Gritted teeth)
No. You have to see. Look!
(While JACK still struggles)
LOOK!
A LONG, WET RIPPING SOUND as FATHER PULLS THE KNIFE DOWN, parting the woman’s chest.
MODIFY to become the SOUND OF CLOTH RIPPING.
MODIFY to become a LOUD ELECTRIC CRACKLE.
OVER, as it FADES:
MRS. BENTHAM
And there we have it.
TABLEAU TEN: SLIGHT DIFFERENCES OF NOMENCLATURE
BRING UP the NOISE OF BIRDS outside PURL’S office windows.
PURL
Have what, exactly?
(Unimpressed)
So your “Stephen” has a bit of medical jargon under his belt.
He could be a sideshow quack for all we know.
MRS. BENTHAM
You don’t find it in the least . . . intriguing?
PURL
Intriguing, yes. Hardly proof positive.
MRS. BENTHAM
I’m aware I can’t match your expertise in these matters,
Doctor, but I feel—
PURL
You feel too much, Mrs. Bentham. That is your sex’s curse,
and its charm.