Hale looked his usual, disillusioned self, only Jurnet, who knew the man well, recognizing the ironic amusement buried deep in the mournful eyes. As for the Professor of Contemporary Institutions, his expression was one of deep shame improbably compounded with a childish self-congratulation. ‘Looks like our business at the University’s begun to overlap,’ was Sid Hale’s greeting. ‘You’ve met Mr Culliver, I think?’ The Professor, who had twitched with annoyance at not being accorded his title, put out his hand; then, thinking better of it, put it behind his back as if he feared Jurnet might have his cane handy. ‘Well!’ Hale said. ‘I was looking, actually, for the Archaeology man, to have a few words about the Hob’s Hole Venus incident, only they told me he wasn’t expected in today, so I asked for Mr Culliver here instead. He’d been seen on the premises, I was told, but where? Somebody eventually said he thought he’d seen the Professor going towards the paddock where the caravans were parked.
