THE END OF A SHOW
a kindness even to myself, though I thought I did, or I shouldn't have come to this.'
He took his pipe from his mouth and spat. Once more he heard that strange wailing sound; this time he arose, and walked in the direction of it.
Yes, that was it. It came from that caravan standing alone where the trees made a dark spot. The caravan was gaudily painted, and there were steps from the door to the ground. He remembered having noticed it once during the day. It was evident that someone inside was in trouble—great trouble. The old man knocked gently at the door.
'Who's there? What's the matter?'
'Nothing,' said a broken voice from within.
'Are you a woman?'
There was a fearful laugh.
'Neither man nor woman—a show.'
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