"I, too, monsieur. It is a bad place, the Col des Nantillons; it is not a
quick way or a good way to anywhere, and it is very dangerous. And yet I
am not sure. Monsieur Lattery was very safe on rocks. Ice, that is
another thing. But he would be on rock."

It was evident that Michel was in doubt, but it seemed that Chayne could
not force himself to share it.

"You had better get quietly together what guides you can, Michel," he
said. "By the time a rescue party is made up the answer will have come
from Courmayeur."

Chayne walked slowly back to the hotel. All those eager anticipations
which had so shortened his journey this morning, which during the last
two years had so often raised before his eyes through the shimmering heat
of the Red Sea cool visions of ice-peaks and sharp spires of rock, had
crumbled and left him desolate. Anticipations of disaster had taken their
place. He waited in the garden of the hotel at a spot whence he could
command the door and the little street leading down to it. But for an
hour no messenger came from the post-office. Then, remembering that a
long sad work might be before him, he went into the hotel and
breakfasted. It was twelve o'clock and the room was full. He was shown a
place amongst the other newcomers at one of the long tables, and he did
not notice that Sylvia Thesiger sat beside him. He heard her timid
request for the salt, and passed it to her; but he did not speak, he did
not turn; and when he pushed back his chair and left the room, he had no
idea who had sat beside him, nor did he see the shadow of disappointment
on her face. It was not until later in the afternoon when at last the
blue envelope was brought to him. He tore it open and read the answer of