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More to the right we could descry the snowy summit of the Buet, and farther off the Dents-du-Midi, with its five tusks, overhanging the valley of the Rhone. Behind us were the eternal snows of the Goûter, Mont Maudit, and, lastly, Mont Blanc. Little by little the shadows invaded the valley of Chamonix, and gradually each of the summits which overlook it on the west.

If I ever go it will be to climb the honest rock towers around Chamonix, for I won't have anything to do with snow mountains. That day on the Colle delle Rondini fairly sickened me of ice. I daresay I might have liked it if I had done it in a holiday mood, at leisure and in good spirits.

I don't want a scientist. I want a plain man. "Then he fixed me with a look like a tragic actor's. 'Do you remember that talk we had in August at Chamonix about Space? I daresay you thought I was playing the fool. So I was in a sense, but I was feeling my way towards something which has been in my mind for ten years. Now I have got it, and you must hear about it.

"For how long did you watch them?" asked Chayne. "For a few minutes only. My party was anxious to get back to Chamonix. But they seemed in no difficulty, monsieur. They were going well." Chayne shook his head at the hopeful words and handed his telegram to Michel Revailloud. "The day before yesterday they were on the rocks of the Blaitière," he said.

All the high hopes with which she had set out from Chamonix had fallen, all the rare qualities with which her dreams had clothed him as in shining raiment must now be stripped from him. She was not deceived. Parminter, Barstow, Garratt Skinner there was one "deep fellow" in that trio, but it was neither Barstow nor Parminter. It was her father.

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.

Down this tremendous gutter crowd the eternal snows of Mont Blanc, compressed toward the bottom into the Glacier des Bossons and the Glacier de Taconnaz. These immense ice streams are separated by the projecting nose of the Montagne de la Cote, which rises from the valley of Chamonix and lies in a long, dark ridge on the foot of Mont Blanc.

She ascended the Montanvert in 1810 but not alone; a small army of men preceded her to clear the path and carpet it, perhaps and she followed, under the protection of SIXTY-EIGHT guides. Her successor visited Chamonix later, but in far different style. It was seven weeks after the first fall of the Empire, and poor Marie Louise, ex-Empress was a fugitive.

Garratt Skinner had started two days before from Chamonix, was already, now, at this moment, asleep, with his unconscious victim at his side, high up on the rocks of the upper Brenva glacier. There was no way to hinder him no way unless God helped. He asked abruptly of Michel: "Have you climbed this season, Michel?" Michel laughed grimly. "Indeed, yes, to the Montanvert, monsieur.

"The Col des Nantillons is a bad place, Michel, that's the truth. Had Lattery been detained in the hut he would have found means to send us word. In weather like this, that hut would be crowded every night; every day there would be some one coming from Courmayeur to Chamonix. No! I am afraid of the steep slabs of that rock-wall." And Michael Revailloud said slowly: "I, too, monsieur.