"Maybe you will," Fleetwood said. "You'll have to help me, though, I'm afraid."
"What are you going to do?"
"You'll see." Fleetwood paused for reflection. "Now, then, in that last scene you have me diving into a black abyss. That was the last bit of it, wasn't it?"
" ... the floor opened into a black abyss in front of him," Dermitt quoted, "and he dived in headfirst."
"That's right," Fleetwood nodded. "What's the next line?"
"The next line?" Dermitt said. "How should I know? I haven't written it yet."
"But you must have some idea. Suppose you go over there to your desk and write it out right now—just as an experiment?"
"Huh? What are you up to?"
"Just try it and see what happens. I'd rather like to know myself as a matter of fact."
Keeping his eyes on Fleetwood, Dermitt got up slowly and crossed to the desk in the alcove. "You're mad," he said uncertainly. "You're out of your mind."