Joseph goes and fetches a map. 

The city has encroached; the river has not moved. 

He outlines the extent of the catacombs, and marks a few entrances, commenting briefly on each's stability.

"We should be able to access some of those without alerting the neighbors, but the town might note our presence; it depends, I suppose, on how secretive we wish to be - I don't imagine our presence in the area being known presenting a significant problem, especially if we don't linger to use the catacombs."

"Entering the catacombs takes less time than exhuming a grave; I imagine sneaking in under the cover of night could be done without a watchman or anyone else seeing anything noteworthy if we were careful." 

"The river paths might be more likely to be watched for bootleggers; still, this one here seems far from any prying eyes..." And she traces a door set in the woods. "But it's close enough to a road we might be able to retrieve more salts than we could in a single trip, packing them into the car."

Nod. To Hiram: "How are they stored? We may want to bring new containers if the current ones aren't secure enough to prevent spilling during transport." 

"Clay containers. Most are likely still intact, but they are not immune to being tipped over, no."

"I'll acquire some jars with lids that seal tightly." 

He nods. "Sensible."

"Another matter: while you resemble my son greatly, you do not act like him, and it is unreasonable to try and keep the two of you from ever being seen together."

"I have been acting differently since Eliza's death; I suspect further odd behavior could be written off. But the latter point I grant." 

"Do you have suggestions for how to resolve this?"

"Long-lost relative?"

"My sister spent a time acquiring every orphan she stumbled across. No one will question if they lost track of how many she has. Besides, presenting a child of her own blood will quell those horrible rumors of her barrenness. Of course, she never would have distinguished between her children, so has not mentioned it prior."

"Another cousin, perfect." 

"I would want some tales of her, some indication of my supposed upbringing, but, yes. I can be an antiquarian, of an out-dated mind, to explain my speech. Perhaps I have been ill, and educated solely upon books, to explain my lack of modern knowledge."

"She's not in town, now, but I will send her a letter. And stories aplenty can I provide."

"We would have had to tell her that the family traditions had become more practical than theoretical in any case." 

Emma nods. "She's I suspect suspicious of what we have been doing, but I have not confirmed it prior."

"Well. She's not who we're hiding it from." 

"Indeed. I suspect she'll want to meet her new 'child,' too."

"Acceptable. What is my name to be?"

"Hiram is antiquated but not too odd. Her surname is Sanders."

"Hiram Sanders, then."

Nod. "--We have your wife's body, as well. We didn't want to do anything irreversible until we had your expertise."