Jeffrey Archer - Paths Of Glory

“As you seem to be so well informed, Guy,” whispered George, “who’s the young lady standing by the Governor-General’s side?”

“His second wife,” said Bullock. “His first died a couple of years ago, and this one-”

“This is Guy Bullock, Sir Peter,” said the General. “He’s taken a sabbatical from the Foreign Office to join us.”

“Good evening, Mr. Bullock.”

“And this is George Mallory, our climbing leader.”

“So this is the man who’s going to be the first to stand on the summit of Everest,” said the Governor-General, shaking George warmly by the hand.

“He has a rival,” said Guy with a grin.

“Ah, yes,” said the Governor-General, “Mr. Finch, if I remember correctly. Can’t wait to meet the fellow. And may I introduce my wife.”

After bowing to the young lady, George and Guy drifted into a packed room where the only Indians in sight were servants offering drinks. George selected a sherry wine and then headed for the one person he recognized.

“Good evening, Mr. Mallory,” said Russell.

“Good evening, Mr. Russell,” said George. “Are you enjoying being posted out here?” He was never at ease when having to make small talk.

“Capital, enjoying every moment,” Russell replied. “It’s just a pity about the natives.”

“The natives?” repeated George, hoping Russell was joking.

“They don’t like us,” whispered Russell. “In fact, they loathe us. There’s trouble brewing.”

“Trouble?” prompted Bullock, who had walked across to join them.

“Yes, ever since we put that fellow Gandhi in jail for creating unrest-” Suddenly, without warning, Russell stopped in mid-sentence and stared, his mouth hanging open. Mallory and Bullock turned to see what had caused him to be struck dumb.

“Is he one of yours?” asked Russell, barely able to hide his discomfort.

“I’m afraid so,” said George, stifling a grin as he turned to see Finch chatting to the Governor-General’s wife. Finch was dressed in an open-necked khaki shirt, green corduroy trousers, and brown suede shoes, with no socks.

“You should feel flattered,” chipped in Guy. “He doesn’t usually take that much trouble.”

The private secretary was clearly not amused. “The man’s a bounder,” he said as they watched Finch slip an arm around Lady Davidson’s waist.

George didn’t move as he spotted the General heading toward him, almost at a gallop.

“Mallory,” he said, his cheeks flushed, “get that man out of here, and be quick about it.”

“I’ll do my best,” said George, “but I can’t guarantee-”

“If you don’t get him out, and now,” said the General, “I will. And let me assure you it won’t be a pretty sight.”

George handed his empty glass to a passing waiter before crossing the room to join Finch and the Governor-General’s wife.

“Have you met Mallory, Sonia?” Finch asked. “He’s my only real rival.”

“Yes, we’ve been introduced,” replied the Governor-General’s wife, pretending to be unaware of Finch’s arm, draped around her waist.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Lady Davidson,” said George, “but I need to have a private word with Mr. Finch, as a small problem has arisen.”

Without another word he grabbed Finch firmly by the elbow and led him quickly out of the room. Guy slipped in next to Lady Davidson and started chatting to her about whether she intended to return to London for the season.

“So what’s this small problem?” asked Finch once they were out in the hallway.

“You are,” replied George. “At this moment I think you’ll find the General is rounding up volunteers for a firing squad.” He guided Finch out of the door and onto the driveway.

“Where are we going?” asked Finch.

“Back to the hotel.”

“But I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I think that’s the least of your problems.”

“You were ordered to get me out of there, weren’t you?” said Finch as George shoved him into a rickshaw.

“Something like that,” admitted George. “I have a feeling that will be the last time we’re invited to one of the Governor-General’s little soirées.”

“Speak for yourself, Mallory. If you and I get to stand on top of that mountain, you’ll definitely be dining with the Governor-General again.”

“That doesn’t mean you will be,” said George.

“No, I won’t. I’ll be upstairs in his lady’s chamber.”

George thought he heard a knock on the door, but then he could have been dreaming. It sounded a little louder the second time. “Come in,” he said, still half asleep. George opened one eye to see the General staring down at him, still dressed in his uniform.

“Do you always sleep on the floor with the windows wide open, Mallory?” he asked.

George opened his other eye. “It was either this or the veranda,” he said. “And I can assure you, General,” he added, pushing himself up, “this is luxury compared to what it’s going to be like at 27,000 feet, stuck in a tiny tent with only Finch for company.”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to speak to you about,” said the General. “I felt you ought to be the first to know that I’ve decided to put Finch on the next boat back home.”

George put on his silk dressing gown and sat down on the only comfortable chair in the room. He slowly filled his pipe with tobacco, and took his time lighting up.

“Finch’s behavior this evening was quite inexcusable,” the General continued. “I now realize I should never have agreed to him being included in the team.”

George puffed away on his pipe for a few moments before he responded. “General,” he said quietly, “you don’t have the authority to send any member of my team back to England without consulting me.”

“I am consulting you now, Mallory,” said the General, his voice rising with every word.

“No, you are not. You’ve barged into my room in the middle of the night to inform me that you’ve decided to send Finch back to England on the first available boat. That’s not my idea of consultation.”

“Mallory,” interrupted the General, “I don’t have to remind you that I am in overall charge of this expedition. I will be the one who makes the final decision as to what happens to any member of my team.”

“Then you’ll be making this one all on your own, General, because if you put Finch on that boat, then I and the rest of my team will be joining him. I’m sure the RGS will be fascinated to know why, unlike the Duke of York, you didn’t even manage to take us to the top of the hill, let alone bring us down again.”

“But, but-” spluttered the General. “Surely you agree that’s not the way to treat a lady, Mallory, especially the Governor-General’s wife.”

“No one knows better than I do,” said George, “that Finch can be tiresome, and I’m sure he won’t be teaching etiquette to any debs next season. But unless you’re willing to take his place, General, I suggest you go to bed now, and just be grateful that Finch won’t be attending any more cocktail parties for at least another three months. He’s also unlikely to bump into any more ladies on his way to the Himalaya.”

“I’ll have to think about it, Mallory,” said the General, turning to leave. “I’ll let you know my decision in the morning.”

“General, I’m not one of your coolies who’s desperate for the King’s shilling, so please let me know now if I am to wake up my men and tell them they’ll be returning to England on the first boat, or if I can allow them to rest before they set out on the most arduous journey of their lives.”

The General’s face became redder. “On your head be it, Mallory,” he said, before storming out of the room.