The hotel clock had struck six before a carriage bearing Mr. Irving pulled up outside the front door. There was no sign of the scantily dressed lady. He was surprised to find Guy sitting on the steps, and even more surprised when he discovered why.
The hotel manager only needed to make a couple of phone calls before he located which police station George had spent the night in. It took all of Mr. Irving’s diplomatic skills, not to mention emptying his wallet, before the duty officer agreed to release the irresponsible young man, and only then after Mr. Irving had assured the inspector that they would leave the country immédiatement.
On the ferry back to Southampton, Mr. Irving told the two young men that he hadn’t yet made up his mind whether to report the incident to their parents.
“And I still haven’t made up my mind,” responded Guy, “whether to tell my father the name of that club you took us to last night.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MONDAY, OCTOBER 9TH, 1905
GEORGE WAS RELIEVED to find that the front door of Magdalene College was open when he arrived for the first day of term.
He strolled into the porter’s lodge, placed his suitcase on the floor, and said to the familiar figure seated behind the counter, “My name’s—”
“Mr. Mallory,” said the porter, raising his bowler hat. “As if I’m likely to forget,” he added with a warm smile. He looked down at his clipboard. “You’ve been allocated a room on staircase seven, sir, the Pepys Building. I normally escort freshmen on their first day of term, but you seem to be a gentleman who can find his own way.” George laughed. “Across First Court and through the archway.”
“Thank you,” said George, picking up his suitcase and heading toward the door.
“And sir.” George turned back as the porter rose from his chair. “I believe this is yours.” He handed George another leather suitcase with the letters GLM printed in black on its side. “And do try to be on time for your six o’clock appointment, sir.”
“My six o’clock appointment?”
“Yes, sir, you are bidden to join the Master for drinks in the lodgings. He likes to acquaint himself with the new undergraduates on the first day of term.”
“Thank you for reminding me,” said George. “By the way, has my friend Guy Bullock turned up?”
“He has indeed, sir.” Once again the porter looked down at his list. “Mr. Bullock arrived over two hours ago. You’ll find him on the landing above you.”
“That will be a first,” said George without explanation.
As George walked toward First Court, he was careful not to step on the grass, which looked as if it had been cut with a pair of scissors. He passed several undergraduates, some dressed in long gowns to show that they were scholars, others in short gowns to indicate that, like himself, they were exhibitioners, while the rest didn’t wear gowns, just mortar boards, which they occasionally raised to each other.
No one gave George a second look, and certainly no one raised their mortar board to him as he walked by, which brought back memories of his first day at Winchester. He couldn’t suppress a smile when he passed Mr. A. C. Benson’s staircase. The senior tutor had telegrammed the day after their meeting, offering George a history exhibition. In a later letter he informed him that he would be tutoring him himself.
George continued on through the archway into Second Court, which housed the Pepys Building, until he came to a narrow corridor marked with a bold 7. He dragged his cases up the wooden steps to the second floor, where he saw a door with the name G. L. Mallory painted on it in silver letters. How many names had appeared on that door over the past century, he wondered.
He entered a room not much larger than his study at Winchester, but at least he would not be expected to share the tiny space with Guy. He was still unpacking when there was a knock on the door, and Guy strolled in without waiting for an invitation. The two young men shook hands as if they had never met before, laughed, and then threw their arms around each other.
“I’m on the floor above you,” said Guy.
“I’ve already made my views clear on that ridiculous notion,” responded Geo
rge.
Guy smiled when he saw the familiar chart that George had already pinned to the wall above his desk.
Ben Nevis
4,409 ft.
Great St. Bernard
8,101 ft.
Mont Vélan
12,353 ft.