JAYSON—[Worriedly.] But, if Bigelow should fail—
SHEFFIELD—Then we'll succeed. [With a grim smile.] By God, we'll have to.
JAYSON—Curt has already packed his trunks and had them taken down to the station—told me he was leaving on the five o'clock train.
SHEFFIELD—But didn't you hint to him there was now this matter of the child to be considered in making his plans?
JAYSON—[Lamely.] I started to. He simply flared up at me with insane rage.
DICK—[Looking out the window.] Say, I believe they're coming in.
JAYSON—Bigelow?
DICK—Yes, they're both making for the front door.
SHEFFIELD—I suggest we beat a retreat to Curt's study and wait there.
JAYSON—Yes, let's do that—come on, all of you. [They all retire grumblingly but precipitately to the study, closing the door behind them. The front door is heard opening and a moment later CURT and BIGELOW enter the room. CURT's face is set in an expression of stony grief. BIGELOW is flushed, excited, indignant.]