which spring the peaks of the Dent du Requin, the Aiguille du Plan, the
Aiguille de Blaitière, the Grépon and the Charmoz. Here and there the
ridge sinks between the peaks, and one such depression between the
Aiguille de Blaitière and the Aiguille du Grépon is called the Col des
Nantillons. To cross that pass, to descend on the other side of the great
rock-wall into that bay of ice facing Chamonix, which is the Glacier des
Nantillons, had been Lattery's idea.

Chayne turned to the porter.

"When did this come?"

"Three days ago."

The gravity on Chayne's face changed into a deep distress. Lattery's
party would have slept out one night certainly. They would have made a
long march from Courmayeur and camped on the rocks at the foot of the
pass. It was likely enough that they should have been caught upon that
rock-wall by night upon the second day. The rock-wall had never been
ascended, and the few who had descended it bore ample testimony to its
difficulties. But a third night, no! Lattery should have been in Chamonix
yesterday, without a doubt. He would not indeed have food for three
nights and days.

Chayne translated the telegram into French and read it out to Michel
Revailloud.

"The Col des Nantillons," said Michel, with a shake of the head, and
Chayne saw the fear which he felt himself looking out from his
guide's eyes.