The Misplaced Spines - The Sidewinders #70

Episode 70

The Misplaced Spines

Arabella spent most of dinner ignored by the men as they engaged in discussion about politics, recent troubles in the Transvaal and, of course, long-extinct beasties. Her only function was to sit smiling indulgently and looking pretty. The first was a strain on her facial musculature. The latter was easily enough accomplished with a dress of near-indigo blue trimmed with pearls and showing off as much of her décolletage as was acceptable by the fashion mores of the day.

The trouble she took in dressing was wasted for the most part as she found only Geoffrey Pike stealing glances her way. Sir Peter she excused as an upper-class English prig who’d never dare the sort of bad form required to openly stare at the attractive young daughter of his host. But what sort of Frenchman, she thought to herself, would resist intently studying a pair of young bosoms presented as hers were. Even the professor’s gormless young prodigy failed to take more than a passing note of her. She thought she knew what sort of Frenchman this was and consoled herself with that. She’d encountered lady-boys back in the Orient and assumed that this was the purpose Master Humphries served.

As the plates of the last course were taken away, Arabella stood to leave the men to brandy and cigars. They stood to see her off, but her father spoke up.

“We’ll have our drink and smokes brought to us in the conservancy,” Lord Huntoun insisted. “And I wish you’d join us, Pansy.”

She could hardly refuse. Her father wanted her to witness his scientific triumph and she would indulge him that. Geoffrey offered her his arm and, together, they led the way from the dining hall to the conservancy.

Sir Peter and the professor took a great deal of interest in the assembled bones of the creature. They consulted with one another in muttered French once Lord Huntoun was done with his introductory remarks of how he and “young Pike” had discovered and excavated the fossil remains from the floor of a quarry near Truro.

“And you call it by what name?” Sir Peter said with an unctuous smile once he’d broken off his consult with the professor.

“Well, um, I’ve chosen huntounosaurus to identify it,” Lord Huntoun said. “In honor of the title, of course. A sort of family legacy, you see.”

The Frenchman pointed his cohiba at the creature, a wisp of smoke describing the path of his indication as he stabbed a finger at the rib cage, feet and neck.

“And you believe this to be a previously undiscovered species?” Sir Peter’s smile grew bolder. He was secretly amused and making a poor effort of concealing it.

“I do. I have gone over the journals and subscribe to several other publications and, while it is somewhat similar to other specimens, there are aspects of it that I believe are unique.”

The Frenchman tittered at that, fingers pressed to his lips.

“You disagree with my findings?” Lord Huntoun said, his neck turning crimson above this starched collar.

“It is the considered opinion of myself and Professor Archambeau that your pet here is, in actuality, a dacentrurus of the stegasaurid variety,” Sir Peter said with barely disguised mirth. “It’s rather a common find especially around Truro hence the acknowledgment of that region in its name.”

“That’s not possible!” Lord Huntoun declared. “The dacentrurus has projecting spines running along its back. My find has a row mounted along either flank.”

“That is because you have misplaced these spines, monsieur,” the professor said.

“And, in the process, increased their number from ten to twenty?” Arabella’s father was keeping his voice level with a great deal of effort. She noted the knuckles of his hand held about the stem of his brandy snifter were turning white.

“Because you applied the spiny points from more than one specimen,” Sir Peter said. “As well as adding additional vertebra to the neck and tail thus extending those portions to a degree as to make the true breed of this creature unrecognizable.”