Paths of Glory

“But I always thought you were considered to be a bit of an authority on the subject?”

“Women don’t allow any man to be an authority on the subject,” said Finch bitterly.

“Fallen in love with someone, have you?” asked George, wondering if Finch was suffering from the same problem as he was.

“Out of love,” said Finch. “Which is far more complicated.”

“I feel sure it won’t be too long before you find a replacement.”

“It’s not a replacement I’m worried about,” said Finch. “I’ve just found out that she’s pregnant.”

“Then you’ll have to marry her,” said George matter-of-factly.

“That’s the problem,” Finch said. “We’re already married.”

That was the nearest George had come to falling off a mountain since the avalanche on Mont Blanc.

A head appeared over the ledge. “Let’s keep moving,” said Young. “Or can’t you two see a way out of the problem?”

As neither of them replied, Young simply said, “Follow me.”

For the next hour, all three men struggled gamely up the last thousand feet, and it wasn’t until George had joined Young and Finch at the top of the mountain that Finch spoke again.

“Is there any news about the one mountain we all want to stand on top of?” he asked Young.

Although George didn’t approve of Finch’s blunt approach, he hoped that Young would answer the question, as one thing was certain: No one was going to overhear them at 14,686 feet on the summit of the Matterhorn.

Young looked out across the valley, wondering how much information he should divulge. “Anything I have to say on this subject must remain between the three of us,” he said eventually. “I’m not expecting an official announcement from the Foreign Office for at least another couple of months.” He didn’t speak again for a few moments, and for once even Finch remained silent. “However, I can tell you,” he continued at last, “that the Alpine Club has come to a provisional agreement with the Royal Geographical Society to set up a joint body, which will be known as the Everest Committee.”

“And who will be sitting on that committee?” asked Finch.

Once again Young took his time before responding. “Sir Francis Younghusband will be chairman, I will be deputy chairman, and Mr. Hinks will be secretary.”

“No one can object to Younghusband as chairman,” said George, choosing his words carefully. “After all, he was instrumental in getting an Everest expedition off the grou

nd.”

“But that doesn’t apply to Hinks,” responded Finch, not choosing his words carefully. “There’s a man who’s managed to turn snobbery into an art form.”

“Isn’t that a little rough, old boy?” suggested George, who had thought he could no longer be shocked by anything Finch came out with.

“Perhaps you failed to notice that at Scott’s RGS lecture the women, including Hinks’s and Scott’s wives, were relegated to the gallery like cattle on a goods train.”

“Traditions die hard in such institutions,” suggested Young calmly.

“Don’t let’s excuse snobbery by passing it off as tradition,” said Finch. “Mind you, George,” he added, “Hinks will be delighted if you’re chosen as one of the climbing party. After all, you went to Winchester and Cambridge.”

“That was uncalled for,” said Young sharply.

“We’ll find out if I’m right soon enough,” said Finch, standing his ground.

“You need have no fear on that front,” said Young. “I can assure you that it will be the Alpine Club that selects the climbing team, not Hinks.”

“That may be,” said Finch, unwilling to let go of his bone, “but what really matters is who sits on that committee.”

“It will have seven members,” said Young. “Three of them will be from the Alpine Club. Before you ask, I shall be inviting Somervell and Herford to join me.”

“Couldn’t say fairer than that,” said George.