“Pudd’nhead was right at the start—­we ought to have hired the official half of that human phillipene to resign; but it’s too late now; some of us haven’t got anything left to hire him with.”

“Yes, we have,” said another citizen, “we’ve got this”—­and he produced a halter.

Many shouted:  “That’s the ticket.”  But others said:  “No—­Count Angelo is innocent; we mustn’t hang him.”

“Who said anything about hanging him?  We are only going to hang the other one.”

“Then that is all right—­there is no objection to that.”

So they hanged Luigi.  And so ends the history of “Those Extraordinary Twins.”

FINAL REMARKS

As you see, it was an extravagant sort of a tale, and had no purpose but to exhibit that monstrous “freak” in all sorts of grotesque lights.  But when Roxy wandered into the tale she had to be furnished with something to do; so she changed the children in the cradle; this necessitated the invention of a reason for it; this, in turn, resulted in making the children prominent personages—­nothing could prevent it of course.  Their career began to take a tragic aspect, and some one had to be brought in to help work the machinery; so Pudd’nhead Wilson was introduced and taken on trial.  By this time the whole show was being run by the new people and in their interest, and the original show was become side-tracked and forgotten; the twin-monster, and the heroine, and the lads, and the old ladies had dwindled to inconsequentialities and were merely in the way.  Their story was one story, the new people’s story was another story, and there was no connection between them, no interdependence, no kinship.  It is not practicable or rational to try to tell two stories at the same time; so I dug out the farce and left the tragedy.

The reader already knew how the expert works; he knows now how the other kind do it.

Mark Twain.