28 



world about me had ceased to exist, until I heard my name called, 

 it seemed from far away, then suddenly again, close by, and more 

 urgently, and loudly. . . . There was my wife, staring at me from 

 across the table with deep concern on her face, as was also her 

 mother across at the corner; both were looking at me intently. I 

 found to my surprise that I was standing. My wife tells that she 

 was engrossed in a letter when suddenly she felt that something was 

 wrong, and looking up saw me on my feet, staring at a letter in 

 my hand. The light was behind me and she could see a fish-like 

 drawing through the thin paper. 'What on earth is the matter?' 

 she said, and I came back to the present. Looking again at the 

 letter and sketch I said slowly, 'This is from Miss Latimer, and 

 unless I am quite off the rails she has got something that is really 

 startling. Don't think me mad, but I believe there is a good chance 

 that it is a type of fish generally thought to have been extinct for 

 many millions of years.' My wife says that she did wonder if I 

 had got a touch of the sun, for she knew that I usually weighed 

 every word, and this was quite the most extraordinary thing she 

 had ever heard from my lips. I passed the letter over to her, and 

 the two women read the first page and then examined the sketch, 

 while, the rest of my mail pushed aside, I sat and stared into what 

 this might mean if my first deductions were correct. 



Yes, those fishes of bygone days had always intrigued me, and 

 I went over in my mind what this could possibly resemble. As 

 will be seen (Plate i, facing p. 32), the sketch was in some ways im- 

 pressionistic and not a very good representation of the animal. But 

 that tail, and the clearly large scales, and those limb-like fins ! One 

 alone in a sketch might be passed; but all together! At the same 

 time what I suspected was so utterly preposterous that my 

 common sense kept up a steady fire of scorn for my idiocy in even 

 thinking of it. 



I was afraid of this thing, for I could see something of what it 

 would mean if it were true, and I also realised only too well what 

 it would mean if I said it was and it was not. On that sketch alone 

 I could never decide anything; I must see the creature itself. 

 That would almost certainly mean a journey to East London, 

 most inconvenient at that particular time, for in the University 

 of South Africa I was that year an examiner, and the centres 

 had been notified to send the papers to Knysna. In that capacity 



