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The moon shined overhead. Fragments of broken signs littered the grass surrounding the Barnum home. The authorities had come and taken the protestors away, but they hadn't gone willingly. Charity hadn't mentioned the screams, the slurs, that rattled their home. She and Caroline had been forced to hold each other, tearful and frightened, as Barnum laid unconscious on the floor.

The protestors hadn't gone willingly.

Some hadn't gone at all.

Crawling out from his place beneath a thick batch of bushes, the man's hand fumbled for his pocket. He grinned, teeth glittering in the moonlight, as he looked upon Phineas Barnum's mansion.

A tiny flame flickered in his hand.

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