"Pierre! No, indeed!" he cried. "Monsieur, never engage Pierre Delouvain
for your guide. I speak solemnly. Joseph--yes, and whenever you can
secure him. I thought you spoke of him. But Pierre, he is a cousin who
lives upon Joseph's name, a worthless fellow, a drunkard. Monsieur, never
trust yourself or any one whom you hold dear with Pierre Delouvain!"
Chayne's last doubt was dispelled. Garratt Skinner had laid his plans for
the Brenva route. Somewhere on that long and difficult climb the accident
was to take place. The very choice of a guide was in itself a
confirmation of Chayne's fears. It was a piece of subtlety altogether in
keeping with Garratt Skinner. He had taken a bad and untrustworthy guide
on one of the most difficult expeditions in the range of Mont Blanc. Why,
he would be asked? And the answer was ready. He had confused Pierre
Delouvain with Joseph, his cousin, as no doubt many another man had done
before. Did not Pierre live on that very confusion? The answer was not
capable of refutation.
Chayne was in despair. 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.
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