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Updated: May 18, 2025
Haven't you ever seen my turn?" We confessed, with regret, that we had missed the privilege. "Well, well, it's a queer world," he said philosophically. "You've never heard of me and perhaps you two gentlemen are big bugs in your own line and I've never heard of you. But anyhow, I never asked you, Mr. Chayne, to catch my gloves." "I haven't your gloves," said Jaffery, with his eye on Susan.
She had reminded him of some one some one whose name he could not remember but some one with whom years ago he had climbed. And then upon the rocks, some chance movement of Sylvia's, some way in which she moved from ledge to ledge, had revealed to him the name Gabriel Strood. Was it possible, Chayne asked?
"Oh, he says that!" She understood now one of the methods of the new intrigue. Sylvia was in love with Chayne; therefore Walter Hine may console himself with cocaine. It was not Garratt Skinner who suggested it. Oh, no!
He disappeared from the window, and the watchers below saw the door slammed to, heard the sound of the slamming and then another sound, the sound of a key turning in the lock. It seemed almost that Chayne had been listening for that sound. For he turned at once to Sylvia. "We puzzled them fairly, didn't we?" he said, with a smile.
They were volumes of the "Alpine Journal." He had chosen those which dated back from twenty years to a quarter of a century. He drew a chair up beside the lamp and began eagerly to turn over the pages. Often he stopped, for the name of which he was in search often leaped to his eyes from the pages. Chayne read of the exploits in the Alps of Gabriel Strood.
The way she clears the place of the cobwebs of convention! She's great. Isn't she, Doria?" "I can quite understand Mr. Chayne finding her an uncomfortable charge." "Thank you," said Jaffery, with rather unnecessary vehemence. "I knew you would be sympathetic." He dropped into a chair by her side. "You can't tell what an awful thing it is to be responsible for another human being."
When Miss Chayne took down his address, her manner had quite changed towards him. She had now a frank and pleasant comradeship. The official had gone. Her smile said as plainly as print could do: "You are with us now." Meanwhile Commodore Graham read through once more the letter of Paul Bendish.
At last Chayne came to that very narrative which Sylvia had been reading on her way to Chamonix and there the truth was bluntly told for the first time. Chayne started up in that dim and quiet room, thrilled. He had the proof now, under his finger the indisputable proof. Gabriel Strood suffered from an affection of the muscles in his right thigh, and yet managed to out-distance all his rivals.
She thought for a moment or two how best to put what she had still to stay: "I have probably said to you," she resumed, "more than was right or fair I mean fair to my father. I have no doubt exaggerated things. I want you to forget what I have said. For it led you into a mistake." Chayne looked at her in perplexity. "A mistake?" "Yes," she answered.
I have crossed Mont Blanc once that way. I shall be very glad to go again. We shall be the first to cross for two years. If only the weather holds." "Do you doubt that?" asked Chayne, anxiously. The morning had broken clear, the day was sunny and cloudless.
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