Paths of Glory

“Possibly,” said Finch. “But who are the RGS’s candidates?”

“Hinks, a fellow called Raeburn, and a General Bruce, so our numbers will be equal.”

“That leaves Younghusband with the casting vote.”

“I have no problem with that,” said Young. “Younghusband’s been an excellent president of the RGS, and his integrity has never been in question.”

“How very British of you,” remarked Finch.

Young pursed his lips before adding, “Perhaps I should point out that the RGS will only be selecting those members of the party who will be responsible for drawing up detailed maps of the outlying district and collecting geological specimens, as well as flora and fauna that are unique to the Himalaya. It will be up to the Alpine Club to choose the climbing party, and it will also be our task to identify a route to the summit of Everest.”

“And who’s likely to lead the expedition?” asked Finch, still not giving an inch.

“I expect it will be General Bruce. He’s served in India for years, and is one of the few Englishmen who is familiar with the Himalaya as well as being a personal friend of the Dalai Lama’s. He would be the ideal choice to take us across the border into Tibet. Once we reach the foothills of Everest and have established base camp, I will take over as climbing leader, with the sole responsibility of ensuring that it’s an Englishman who is the first man to stand on the roof of the world.”

“I’m an Australian,” Finch reminded him.

“How appropriate that another member of the Commonwealth will be standing by my side,” said Young with a smile, before adding, “Perhaps it might be wise for us to begin our descent, gentlemen. Unless you were planning to spend the night on top of this mountain?”

George put his goggles back on, excited by Young’s news, although he suspected that Finch had provoked him to reveal far more than he had originally intended.

Young placed a sovereign on the highest point of the Matterhorn, bowed, and said, “His Majesty pays his compliments, ma’am, and hopes you will allow his subjects a safe journey home.”

“One more question,” said Finch.

“And only one,” said Young.

“Do you have any idea when this expedition plans to leave for Tibet?”

“Yes,” replied Young. “It can’t leave any later than February next year. We’ll have to establish base camp by May if we’re to have time to reach the summit before the monsoon season sets in.”

Finch seemed satisfied with this reply, but George could only wonder how Mr. Fletcher, the newly appointed headmaster of Charterhouse, would react to one of his staff requesting a six-month leave of absence.

Young led them slowly back down the mountain, not wasting any words on small talk until they were on safer ground. When their hotel came into sight, he uttered his last words on the subject. “I would be obliged, gentlemen, if this matter was not referred to again, even between ourselves, until the Foreign Office has made an official announcement.”

Both men nodded. “However,” Young added, “I hope you don’t have anything else planned for 1915.”

Finch was on his way down to dinner, dressed in an open-necked shirt, flannel trousers, and a sports jacket, when he spotted Mallory at the reception desk writing out a check.

“Off on another little adventure, are we?” inquired Finch, looking down at the suitcase by Mallory’s feet.

Mallory smiled. “Yes. I have to admit that you’re not the only man I’m trying to stay a yard ahead of.”

Finch glanced at the label attached to the suitcase. “As there are no mountains that I’m aware of in Venice, I can only assume that another woman must be involved.”

George didn’t reply as he handed his check to the clerk standing behind the counter.

“Just as I thought,” said Finch. “And as you’ve already implied that I’m something of an expert when it comes to the fairer sex, allow me to warn you that trying to juggle two women at once, even if they do live on different continents, is never easy.”

George grinned as he folded his receipt and placed it in an inside pocket. “My dear Finch,” he said, “allow me to point out that there has to be a first woman before there can be a second.” Without another word he picked up his suitcase, gave Finch a thin smile, and headed toward the front door.

“I wouldn’t repeat that when you come face to face with Chomolungma for the first time,” said Finch quietly. “I have a feeling that particular lady might well turn out to be an unforgiving mistress.”

George didn’t look back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THURSDAY, MARCH 26TH, 1914