accept the ichthyosaurus as what it was—an ancient marine reptile with its own name Mary found it harder, and often still called it a crocodile, as did most of the local residents, though eventually she settled on ichie To her the new scientific name took her creature away from her even more effectively than its physical removal Learned men were discussing it at meetings and writing about it, and Mary was excluded from their activity She was relied upon to find the specimens, but not to take part in studying them And even that hunting was proving difficult—she had not found a complete ichthyosaurus in over a year, though she combed Church Cliffs and Black Ven every day One day I suggested we look for brittle stars and crinoids on the beach towards Seatown, several miles east of Charmouth We did not usually go so far afield, but I thought a change of scene would Mary good, and suggested Seatown to get her away from her endless tramping up and down the same beach in search of an elusive monster We chose a sunny day when the tides favoured an early start She left behind Church Cliffs and Black Ven willingly enough, but at Gabriel’s Ledge, just beyond Charmouth, she kept turning and looking behind us, as if the cliffs were calling her back “There was a flash back there,” she insisted “Didn’t you see it?” I shook my head and continued along the beach, hoping she would follow “There it is again,” Mary said “Oh, look, Miss Philpot, do you think he’s coming for us?” A man was striding up the beach Although there were other people out, taking advantage of the mild weather and the glorious morning light, he cut through them as if he knew exactly what his goal was, and it was us He was tall and erect, and wore the high boots and long red coat of a soldier The uniform’s brass buttons winked in the sun I am not often moved by the sight of a man, but having this one make it his clear purpose to reach us was a thrill I will long remember He smiled as he approached He was a striking figure of fifty or so, with the straight military bearing so pleasing in a man, trim and upright and confident His face was weathered, his eyes slits against the sun and wind, but he was handsome with it When he removed his cocked hat and bowed, I could see the parting in his bushy black hair, which was threaded with grey “Ladies,” he announced, “I have been searching all morning for you, and am delighted to have found you at last.” He put his hat back on, making the white plumes it was trimmed with waggle His hair was so thick and wavy the hat was in danger of springing off I have never trusted a man who leads with his hair Only a vain,