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Updated: June 7, 2025
There could be no advantage to any one if Walter Hine died. But then why the cocaine? Why the incident of the lighted window? "Yes," he said, in perplexity, "I can corroborate that. It happened that my friend John Lattery, who was killed in Switzerland, was also connected with Joseph Hine. He also would have inherited; and I knew from him that the old man did not recognize his heirs.
"Yet he had noticed you. When I went up to fetch down my friend Lattery, you were standing on the hotel step. You said to me, 'I am sorry. Michel heard you speak, and that evening talked of you. He had the thought that you and I were matched." Sylvia looked back to the night before her first ascent.
Moreover during these last two hours, some faint rushlight of hope had been kindled in his mind which made all delay irksome. He himself would not believe that his friend John Lattery, with all his skill, his experience, had slipped from his ice-steps like any tyro; Michel, on the other hand, would not believe that he had fallen from the upper rocks of the Blaitière on the far side of the Col.
"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.
"There's a thin ridge of ice I read an account in Moore's 'Journal' you have to straddle across the ridge with a leg hanging down either precipice." Chayne shook his head. "Lattery and I meant to try it this summer. The Dent du Requin as well." "Ah, that is one of the modern rock scrambles, isn't it? The last two or three hundred feet are the trouble, I believe."
John Lattery was my great friend, and he was a distant kind of cousin to your friend Walter Hine, and indeed co-heir with him to Joseph Hine's great fortune. His death, I suppose, has doubled your friend's inheritance." Garratt Skinner raised himself up on his elbow. The announcement was really news to him. "Is that so?" he asked. "It is true, then.
Chayne had risen from his chair, but Kenyon laid a hand upon his shoulder and forced him down again with a friendly pressure. "I read of Lattery's death. I am grieved about it for you as much as for Lattery. I know just what that kind of loss means. It means very much," said he, letting his deep-set eyes rest with sympathy upon the face of the younger man.
"The glaciers are uncovered as I have never seen them in all my life. Everywhere it is ice, ice, ice. Monsieur Lattery had only one guide with him and he was not so sure on ice. I am afraid, monsieur, that he slipped out of his steps on the Glacier des Nantillons." "And dragged his guide with him?" exclaimed Chayne. His heart rather than his judgment protested against the argument.
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 the hotel proprietor at Courmayeur: "Lattery left four days ago with one guide for Col du Géant."
Suddenly it rose into the colorless light, pallid and wax-like, with open, sightless eyes and a dropped jaw, and one horrid splash of color on the left forehead, where blood had frozen. It was the face of Chayne's friend, John Lattery; and in a way most grotesque and horrible it bobbed and nodded at him, as though the neck was broken and the man yet lived. When François just below cried, "Gently!
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