Barnum laid on his back on the bed, fully clothed down to his shoes, eyes closed. Tears stained his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away.

He hadn't seen Phillip since their... encounter, earlier that afternoon.

The ringmaster was brought to his feet only by the sounds of someone knocking anxiously at the door. He debated not answering it, but, figuring that it might be Anne or Lettie demanding to know where he'd been, he got out of bed and trudged to the door. He wiped his eyes one more time before opening it.

"Mr. Barnum! Is it true that your wife—"

He slammed the door shut in the news reporter's face.

Trembling, Barnum sank to the floor on his knees. He pitched forward and gently brought his fingers up to his lips, where Phillip - his spirit, his entity, whatever remained of his partner - had clung so close before.

He felt nothing.

A sob ripped from his throat and he closed his eyes. Visions of Charity were chased off by the sight of Phillip, and the fire that had ripped him away.