Drawn Up From Deep Places

POACHER

(Offers the bag)

Here ‘tis. We thought it was yours.

PURL

This? Whyever would you?

POACHER

Well, uh . . . ’cause you’re the doctor, an’ all.

PURL

(With fine contempt)

Oh, of course.

(He examines it)

You got it from the river, I presume.

POACHER

(Suddenly wary)

. . . Yes.

PURL

Calm yourself, man; I’m not about to ask on which side. However—Mrs. Bentham, have I lost a bag recently?

MRS. BENTHAM

Not recently, no.

PURL

No. And on closer examination, I don’t believe this is mine, either. At least . . . I can’t be entirely sure, one way or the other.

LEAN

Why don’t you open it up and see?

PURL

Why not, indeed.

As the clasps SNAP open, a BOLT OF LIGHTNING strikes nearby with a searing crackle. Everybody gasps.

SECOND BOY

Holy Christ.

MRS. BENTHAM

Oh, ah.