George was silent for a moment. “Then you can also record in the minutes, Mr. Hinks, my resignation as climbing leader and as a member of this committee.” Several of those around the table began to speak at once, but George ignored them, and added, “I am not willing to leave my wife and children for at least six months to take part in a mission that failed simply because it left its finest climber behind.”
Sir Francis had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the tumult that followed. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, tapping the side of his brandy glass with a pencil. “It is clear that we have reached an impasse that can be resolved only in one way.”
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Chairman?” asked Hinks suspiciously.
“We shall have to take a vote.”
“But I haven’t had time to prepare th
e necessary ballot papers,” blustered Hinks.
“Ballot papers won’t be necessary,” said Sir Francis. “After all, it’s a simple enough decision. Is Finch to be included in the climbing party or not?” Hinks sank back in his chair, struggling to conceal a smile.
“Very well,” said Sir Francis. “Will those members in favor of Finch being included in the climbing party please raise their hands.”
Mallory and Young immediately put up their hands, and to everyone’s surprise General Bruce joined them.
“Those against?” said the chairman.
Hinks, Raeburn, and Ashcroft raised their hands without hesitation.
“That’s three votes each,” said Hinks, recording the decision in his minute book. “Which leaves you, Mr. Chairman, with the casting vote.”
Everyone around the table turned toward Sir Francis. He considered his position for a few moments before saying, “I cast my vote in favor of Finch.”
Hinks held his pen poised above the minute book, seemingly unable to record the chairman’s vote. “Mr. Chairman,” he said, “for the record, may we know what caused you to reach this decision?”
“Most certainly,” said Sir Francis. “It won’t be me being asked to risk my life when Mallory reaches 27,000 feet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE LITTLE BRASS bell above the door rang.
“Good morning, Mr. Pink,” said George as he entered Ede & Ravenscroft.
“Good morning, Mr. Mallory. How may I assist you on this occasion, sir?”
George leaned across the counter. “I’ve just been selected as a member of the climbing party for the expedition to Everest,” he whispered.
“How very interesting, Mr. Mallory,” said the manager. “We haven’t had any other customers planning a holiday in that part of the world, so may I be so bold as to ask what sort of weather conditions you might be expecting?”
“Well, I’m not altogether certain,” admitted George. “But as far as I can make out, once we’ve reached 27,000 feet, we can expect gale-force winds, a temperature of forty degrees below zero and so little oxygen that it may be almost impossible to breathe.”
“Then you’ll certainly be needing a woolen scarf and some warm gloves, not to mention the appropriate headgear,” said Mr. Pink, coming out from behind the counter.
The manager’s first suggestion was a cashmere Burberry scarf, followed by a pair of fleece-lined black leather gloves. George followed Mr. Pink around the shop as he selected three pairs of thick gray woolen socks, two navy blue jumpers, a Shackleton windcheater, several silk shirts, and the latest pair of fur-lined camping boots.
“And may I inquire, sir, do you anticipate any snow during this trip?”
“Most of the time, I suspect,” said George.
“Then you’ll be needing an umbrella,” suggested Mr. Pink. “And what about headgear, sir?”
“I thought I’d take my brother’s leather flying helmet and goggles,” said George.
“I don’t think you’ll find that’s what fashionable gentlemen will be wearing climbing this year,” said Mr. Pink, handing him the latest deer-stalker.
“Which is why it won’t be a fashionable gentleman who’ll be the first to set foot on the summit of Everest.”