Dead as a Dinosaur by Frances Lockridge

manuscript,” Gerald North said. “Is it here, Mr. Preson? It’s not at the—at your brother’s apartment.” They had checked on that early. All personal effects had been collected from the apartment the afternoon before; the hotel thought by the family.
    â€œI imagine so,” Homer Preson said. “We had everything packed up and brought here. Except the bones, of course. The Institute has collected the bones.”
    Jerry was polite, but he was not interested in fossil bones.
    â€œI’d like very much to see the manuscript,” he said. “Look it over—see how far he’d got. We may be able to salvage something, you know. I’d appreciate seeing it, if it isn’t too much trouble to turn it up.”
    â€œWell,” Homer Preson said. “Emily’s going over things. She’s my daughter, you know. I’ll find out if she’s come across it.”
    He went. After he had gone, Jesse Landcraft laughed shortly. His laughter was not so well preserved as his voice. His laughter sounded its age.
    â€œBearing up,” he said. “Stiff upper lip. Stiff neck, too.” He chuckled, this time. “Think it might be,” he said. “Where he gets it, eh? I’d guess Orph had a hundred thousand left. Maybe more.”
    â€œHe doesn’t seem disappointed,” Pam said, and Jerry, just perceptibly, shook his head at her. It wasn’t their concern, the gesture told her.
    â€œHad time to get over it,” Landcraft said. “Known for a couple of weeks. Orph went to the trouble of telling all of them. Keep things in order. Liked order, Orph did.”
    â€œStill,” Pam said, “it must be disappointing, just the same. He might—oh, he might have thought better of it.”
    â€œOrph?” Jesse Landcraft said. “I suppose he might. If Laura badgered him. He hated to be badgered. Took his mind off mammals. They might have worn him down. Academic now, eh? Can’t think better of it now, can he? Good thing for the Broadly.” He considered. “Best thing could have happened, probably,” he said. “They might have talked him out of it.”
    The implication was somewhat startling. Both the Norths looked at the emaciated man with the young voice. He looked up at them.
    â€œShocked, eh?” he said. “Told you I was detached. Like Orph. Hate to see him dead. Still, he was getting along. Might just have lived the money up, eh? This way, it gets used.” He nodded. “Real use,” he said. “Worth something.” He paused again. “More important than one man,” he said. “You agree, eh?”
    â€œAbstractly,” Pam said.
    â€œYou’re a woman,” Landcraft told her. “Abstract, this side. Something to talk about. Real, this side. Something to see. Touch.”
    â€œIt isn’t a matter of gender,” Pam said. “It’s the way people are. Didn’t you know that, Mr. Landcraft?”
    â€œNot me,” Jesse Landcraft said. “First things first, real or abstract. Because there isn’t any difference if you look at things, eh? Scientifically, no difference.” He shrugged very gaunt shoulders under the too-large jacket. “No need for you to agree,” he told Pam North. “The Institute gets it anyway. That’s real enough, eh? Concrete?”
    â€œPeople come first, all the same,” Pam said.
    He shrugged again.
    â€œOld bones,” he said. “Bones not so old. We’ve got plenty of people. We’ve only scratched a little of the past. With a trowel in an acre—in a hundred acres. We don’t know much, and that’s a fact. Take the bovoids, for example. Tremendous gaps there.”
    â€œCows?” Pam said.
    â€œAmong other things,” Landcraft said. “A wide field, full of gaps. Just an example, of course. Gaps in the primates, if you come to that.”
    â€œBut, after