“‘I bribed the old verger in the crypt of St. Mary’s. Offered him two sovereigns to lift the stone lid and let me look in. He said he couldn’t do that, but discreetly withdrew when I put the money in his hand. It was up to me, don’t you know, and here is the Bishop’s head.’
“‘Going to have him photographed in a group of the family?’ I asked.
“‘No, but you see Materna paid two pounds for a chunk off a tombstone, and I thought I would give her a souvenir worth having,’ said he, and blushed for the first time since our interview had begun. ‘This is unique.’
“‘And you didn’t think the Bishop would miss it?’ I suggested.
“‘Not seriously,’ he answered. ‘I guess it’s a fool thing to have done, but I thought that I could have some fun with the Bishop’s head. Mother is going to round up all the Delances at Christmas for a big dinner––uncles, aunts, and cousins, you know––a celebration of our genealogical discoveries with a great family tree in the center of the table. The history of the Delances will be read, and I thought that I would spring a surprise––tell them that I had invited our old ancestor, Sir Robert Delance, Bishop of St. Clare; that, contrary 27 to my hope, he had accepted, and that I would presently introduce him. In due time I would produce the head and read from his life and writings, which I bought in a London book-stall. Finally, I thought that I would have him tell how he happened to be present. Don’t you think he would make a hit?’
“‘He would surely make a hit––a resounding hit,’ I said, ‘but not as a proof of respectability. Even if the Bishop is your ancestor, you have no good title to his bones. I presume that every visitor to the old church puts his name and address in a register?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well, suppose the theft is discovered and the verger gives you away. All the money you’ve got wouldn’t keep you out of prison.’
“Harry began to turn pale. He was a good fellow, but this genealogical frenzy had turned his head, and his head was not as old as the Bishop’s. It was unduly young.