He went on as though he had not understood my remark. ‘When I got to the end of that valley, I found I was on the edge of a glacier. It was the Cristallino Glacier. I knew then, of course, that we had struck much too far to the right. I waited there for a few minutes. When you didn’t show up, I began to get worried. I started back up my ski tracks. But I hadn’t realised how quickly the snow was covering up my tracks. By the time I’d gone back five hundred yards, there was no trace of them left. The valley wasn’t clearly defined. Without any tracks to guide me, there were innumerable ways I might have come down. The snow had been so thick in my face that I could not remember the features of the ground. It was a maze of little valleys. I tramped up every one I could find. I climbed from one to the other, calling to you. And in the end I thought you must have had a spill, found my tracks covered and made your own way. I went on down to Carbonin then, and when I found you hadn’t arrived I telephoned here for them to send out a search-party from this end, and then started back up the pass with all the decent skiers I could muster at the Carbonin Hotel. My God!’ he said with an apologetic smile, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. You see, I felt it was my fault. I should have realised that my tracks were being covered up like that and kept closer touch with you. What did happen?’ he asked.
I was staggered at his nerve. ‘You mean to say you’ve really no idea what happened?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Christ! You’ve got a nerve, Mayne.’ I was trembling. ‘Why did you take that steep slope as a direct run? You had to Christi at the bottom to avoid the soft snow on the other side of the valley. And you knew I couldn’t Christi.’
‘But I didn’t Christi,’ he said, and looked me straight in the eyes, perfectly cool. ‘There was quite a nice banking turn at the bottom. I took it as a straight turn. I know it was a bit fast, but there was nothing difficult about it. I certainly didn’t have to Christi.’
That’s a lie,’ I said.
He gazed at me in astonishment. ‘I repeat: I did not have to Christi. You’d made out so well, I thought you’d take that bit in your stride.’
‘You knew very well I couldn’t take it in my stride.’ I felt calmer now. ‘You had to Christi and you knew I was bound to crash into that soft snow.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he said. ‘What are you trying to prove?’
I looked at him for a moment. Could I have been mistaken? But that swirl of torn-up snow in the bottom of that valley — the picture of it was so clear in my mind. I said, ‘Mind if I ask you a question?’
‘Of course not.’
‘You joined the Army in 1942. What happened to you after you landed in Italy?’
He looked puzzled. ‘I don’t get what you’re driving at, Blair,’ he said. ‘I joined the Army in 1940, not 1942. Went overseas in ‘43 — North Africa. I was a troop commander in an Ack-Ack Regiment. We landed at Salerno. I was taken prisoner, escaped and then joined UNRRA and went to Greece. But what’s that got to do with—?’
‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘I’m a bit strung-up, that’s all.’ And I lay back against the pillow.
‘Well, anyway,’ he said, ‘I’m glad you’re all right. I did everything I could. I’m terribly sorry about it. It was my fault. I realise that. But I honestly thought you’d have no difficulty at the bottom of that run. I blame myself for not realising that the tracks were being covered up so quickly.’ He got up then.
I said, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
When he had gone out of the room, Joe uncovered a plate of scrambled eggs and placed it beside me. ‘What the devil were you driving at, Neil?’ he asked as I began to eat. ‘Why question him about his Army career?’
‘Because somebody told me he was a deserter,’ I said, with my mouth full. It was good to taste food again. ‘One of them is a liar. I’ll find out which before I’m through.’
‘Don’t understand your attitude,’ he grunted. ‘Mayne’s a decent enough fellow. He couldn’t have done more. Rang us up as soon as he got into Carbonin. I answered the phone. He was terribly worried. He must have been dog-tired after a bad run like that. But he went straight out again with a search-party he got together at Carbonin. Didn’t get in till dark. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t locate you.’
I shrugged my shoulders and went on eating. He seemed to be annoyed by my silence. ‘I think you’re being damned uncharitable in the matter,’ he went on. ‘Know what you said when you came to and I was giving you brandy? I asked what had happened. And you told me that Mayne had tried to murder you.’
I looked up at his heavy, friendly features. He was so sure of the world about him. It was just something to take pictures of. ‘You thought I was just unstrung by what had happened?’
