There seems to be no reason for doing any of these things. Let us leave the skeleton where it is, and avoid a mass of unnecessary complications and humiliations.
So it remains; knee-cap and one tooth missing, but otherwise nearly complete. Parties of school-children, little groups of grave and admiring people conducted by Mr. Goy, casual and curious visitors, look at this fine burial with praiseworthy interest and intelligence. You cannot understand modern man—that is, yourself—without some knowledge of our prehistoric forerunners. Archaeology is becoming popular, and you will now perceive, I hope, some unexpected possibilities of this delightful science. I, for one, have no intention of damping enthusiasm or of opposing frivolous obstacles to the advance of knowledge.
Let it merely be observed, that a skeleton found in a Bronze Age tumulus is not necessarily of Bronze Age date. I mean, it may be Roman or Saxon, or almost anything. The fact is, that we are still very primitive in construction as well as in disposition, and the differences between ourselves and the savages of prehistoric Britain are not nearly so great as you may be inclined to believe.
2
One fact which could not be concealed was Reisby’s participation in the drug traffic. Immense quantities of cocaine, heroin, morphia, veronal and other things of a like nature were found in his laboratory, together with a highly incriminating correspondence… Hilda, I think, however greatly shocked by the realisation of this fact, was not greatly surprised.
The barque Emil Guntershausen was closely watched by the police, though she was not directly implicated by evidence, but no proof of illicit trading was ever discovered. As far as I know, she still brings an occasional cargo of iron ore to Northport.
As for the disappearance of Joe Lloyd, it remains to this day a mystery. If he met with a violent death, I should say that he richly deserved it. I do not like to suggest that his bones are awaiting an archaeological exhumation in some venerable tumulus—but such may be the case.
The disappearance of the ex-gardener may or may not have a sinister explanation. Here again I would rather not speculate.
3
Among the older people of Aberleven, or the more primitive, there was only one view concerning the death of Reisby.
“Ah!” they said, “if he had left the dead in peace, he would have been alive and well to-day.”
Perhaps they are right.
4
The Reisby monograph on what is known as the Aberleven Man was edited by Wilberforce Goy, and may be obtained at the Museum, price five shillings.
In an appropriate and wonderfully discreet preface Mr. Goy has gently criticised certain passages in the monograph, while recording his profound admiration for the late Professor Reisby.
Archaeology, he says, has lost, in the Professor, one of the ablest and most impressive figures of the older school. Had it not been for his enthusiasm and generosity, the Museum would never have obtained one of its principal treasures. At the same time, he wishes to express the indebtedness of the Museum to Professor Frederick Ellingham of Cambridge, not only on account of his invaluable assistance at the excavation of the burial, but also on account of his remarkable photographs. Postcard reproductions of several of these photographs, he notes, can be obtained at the Museum, either in a packet of eight for a shilling or singly at twopence apiece.
5
For the benefit of those who like a story to be rounded off with matrimonial affairs, it may be noted that the lady who appears in this narrative as Hilda Reisby is now Mrs. John Farringdale. My stepdaughter Frances is engaged to Peter Ellingham, who is launched already upon what has every appearance of being a distinguished career as a biologist.
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