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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.