Dworken lifted his glass and shook it, as though he could not believe it was empty, then looked at me questioningly. I shook my head. He snorted, looked melancholy, writhed up from his chair and reached for his fur cape. "Vell, thanks for de drinks," he said. A dark suspicion crept into my mind, but I could not restrain myself. "Wait, Dworken!" I shouted. "You can't just leave me up in the air like that! What happened then?" Dworken snorted into his green handkerchief. "De Martian admitted it was a fake, after all," he said mournfully. "Can you imachine it? What a chiseler! "'De _shiyooch'iid_,' he said, 'can't really talk; de _tllooll_ just t'rows his voice!'" THE END Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. End of Project Gutenberg's Show Business, by William C. Boyd and Lyle G. Boyd