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  “I have indeed, but the rest of the committee has not, and I suspect they might find Mr. Finch’s answers to my questions illuminating. Mr. Finch,” said Young, turning to face the candidate, “have you ever climbed Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe?”

  “On seven occasions,” replied Finch.

  “And the Matterhorn?”

  “Three times.”

  “And any of the other major peaks in the Alps?”

  “All of them. I climb in the Alps every year.”

  “And what about the highest mountains in the British Isles?”

  “I gave them up before I was out of short trousers.”

  “This is all on the record, Mr. Chairman,” said Hinks.

  “For those who’ve taken the trouble to read it,” retorted Young, un-perturbed. “Can I confirm, Mr. Finch, that after completing your education in Geneva, you took up a place as an undergraduate at Imperial College, London?”

  “That is correct,” confirmed Finch.

  “And what subject did you read?”

  “Chemistry,” replied Finch, having decided to play along with Young’s little ruse.

  “What class of degree did that august establishment award you?”

  “A first-class honors degree,” said Finch, smiling for the first time.

  “And did you remain at London University after you had graduated?” asked Young.

  “Yes, I did,” said Finch. “I joined the staff as a lecturer in chemistry.”

  “And did you remain in that position after the war broke out, Mr. Finch, or did you, like Mr. Mallory, enlist in the armed forces?”

  “I enlisted in the army in August 1914, a few days after war was declared.”

  “And in which branch of the army did you serve?” asked Young.

  “As a chemist,” replied Finch, looking directly at Ashcroft, “I felt my expertise could be put to good use by volunteering for the bomb disposal squad.”

  “Bomb disposal squad,” said Young, emphasizing all three words. “Can you elaborate?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Young. The War Office was looking for men to defuse unexploded bombs. Quite fun really.”

  “So you never saw action on the front line?” said Hinks.

  “No, Mr. Hinks, I did not. I found that German bombs had a tendency to fall on our side of the line, not theirs.”

  “And were you ever decorated?” asked Hinks, leafing through his notes.

  Young smiled. The first mistake Hinks had made.

  “I was awarded the MBE,” said Finch matter-of-factly.

  “Good show,” said Bruce. “That’s not something they give out with the rations.”

  “I see no mention of this decoration in your records,” blustered Hinks, trying to recover.

  “Perhaps that’s because I didn’t feel one’s place of birth, educational qualifications, and marital status had much to do with attempting to climb the highest mountain on earth.”

  Hinks was silenced for the first time.

  “Well, if there are no more questions,” said Sir Francis, “allow me to thank Mr. Finch for attending this meeting.” He hesitated before adding, “Someone will be in touch with you in the near future.”

  Finch rose from his place, nodded to Young, and was just about to leave when Hinks said, “Just one more question. Can I confirm that, like Mr. Mallory, you would be willing to undergo a medical examination?”

  “Of course I would,” said Finch, and left the room without another word.

  “Rum sort of fellow, don’t you think?” said Raeburn once the porter had closed the door.

  “But surely there can be no doubting his ability as an alpine climber,” said Young.

  Hinks smiled. “No doubt you’re right, Young, but we at the RGS have always been wary of social climbers.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little rough, Hinks?” said Sir Francis. “Considering the chap’s war record.” Turning to Bruce, he asked, “You’ve led men into battle, General. What did you make of the fellow?”

  “I’d prefer to have him on my side rather than the enemy’s, that’s for sure,” said Bruce. “Given a fair wind, I think I could knock him into shape.”

  “What do we do next?” asked Sir Francis, turning back to Hinks for guidance.

  “The members should now proceed to vote on their choice for climbing leader, Mr. Chairman. For the convenience of the committee I’ve had ballot papers prepared, on which members may place a cross beside the name of their preferred candidate.” Hinks handed a slip of paper to each member of the committee. “Once you’ve made your choice, please return your ballot papers to me.”

  The process took only a few moments, and as Hinks counted the votes, a thin smile appeared on his face that grew wider every time he opened another ballot paper. He finally passed the result across to the chairman, so that he could officially announce the outcome.

  “Five votes for Mallory. And there’s one abstention,” said Younghusband, unable to hide his surprise.

  “It was me again,” announced Young.

  “But you know both the candidates well,” said Sir Francis. “After all, it was you who placed their names in front of the committee.”

  “Perhaps I know them too well,” replied Young. “They are both fine young men in their different ways, but after all these years I still can’t make up my mind which one of them is more likely to accomplish the feat of being the first man to stand on top of the world.”

  “I am in no doubt which man I’d prefer to see representing this country,” said Hinks.

  There were mutterings of “Hear, hear,” but not from all quarters.

  “Any other business?” asked Younghusband.

  “We should simply confirm for the official record,” said Hinks, “that now that we have appointed a climbing leader, we willingly accept nem. con. Mr. Young’s recommendations for the remaining eight places in the climbing team.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Sir Francis. “After all, that is no more than I agreed with the Alpine Club prior to this committee being set up.”

  “I hope,” remarked Ashcroft, “that not too many of them are cut from the same cloth as that fellow Finch.”

  “No fear of that,” said Hinks, looking down at the list. “Apart from Finch, they’re all Oxford or Cambridge men.”

  “Well, that must just about wrap it up,” said Sir Francis.

  A smile returned to Hinks’s lips. “Mr. Chairman, there’s still the small matter of the medical examinations that all the prospective members of the climbing team have agreed to undergo. Presumably you’d like that to be out of the way before the committee reconvenes next month.”

  “That makes sense to me,” said Sir Francis. “No doubt you will handle all the details, Mr. Hinks.”

  “Of course, Mr. Chairman.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HINKS SAT ALONE in his club, nursing a glass of brandy while he waited for his guest. He knew that Lampton wouldn’t be late, but he needed a little time to compose his thoughts before the good doctor arrived.

  Lampton had carried out several delicate commissions for the RGS in the past, but his next undertaking would have to be handled most carefully if no one was to suspect Hinks of being personally involved. Hinks smiled as he recalled Machiavelli’s words, Once you know a man’s ambition, if you can assist it, he becomes beholden to you. He was well aware of one of Lampton’s ambitions.

  Hinks rose from his seat as a porter led Dr. Lampton into the library. Once they’d settled in a secluded corner of the room and dispensed with the usual small talk, Hinks made his well-prepared opening.

  “I see your name is up for membership of the club, Lampton,” he said as a waiter placed two glasses of brandy on the table between them.

  “It is indeed, Mr. Hinks,” Lampton replied, nervously picking up and toying with his glass. “But then, who wouldn’t want to be a member of Boodle’s?”

  “And you shall be a member, dear boy,” said Hinks. “In fact