“I should also point out, Mallory,” said Hinks, “that Irvine is reading chemistry at Oxford, and is well-acquainted with the oxygen apparatus Finch experimented with on the last trip. In fact, I’m reliably informed that he’s in regular touch with the manufacturers about possible improvements to the system.”
“Finch is also a dab hand when it comes to the use of oxygen, and he’s got a first-class honors degree to prove it,” George reminded him. “And just in case the committee has forgotten, he’s already experimented with oxygen above 27,000 feet, which you were extremely critical of at the time, Mr. Hinks. Perhaps even more relevant is that Finch is the current holder of the world altitude record at 27,850 feet, as I know to my cost.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Sir Francis, “we must try to resolve our differences with some degree of decorum.”
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Chairman?” asked George. “As clearly Mr. Hinks and I are never going to agree on this particular subject.”
“That we should allow the majority to prevail, as has always been our custom at the RGS.” Before George could interrupt, Sir Francis added, “As I’m sure is also the case at the Alpine Club.”
Young kept his counsel and, as no one else ventured an opinion Sir Francis continued, “May I therefore suggest, somewhat reluctantly, that the time has come for us to take another vote on this matter?” He waited for any objections to be voiced, but the rest of the committee remained silent. “Will you please officiate, Mr. Secretary?”
“Certainly, Mr. Chairman,” said Hinks. “Those in favor of Mr. Finch being reinstated as a member of the climbing party, please raise your hand.”
Mallory, Young, and, to everyone’s surprise, General Bruce, raised their hands. Before Hinks registered the General’s vote in the minute book he stared across at him and said, “But I thought you detested the man?”
“Yes, I do, old boy,” said Bruce. “But the highest point I managed on the last trip was 17,400 feet, and I can assure you, Hinks, that I have no intention of putting my name forward to join Mallory when he reaches 27,000 feet and has to decide who will join him for the final climb.”
Hinks reluctantly registered the General’s vote. “Those against?” Raeburn and Ashcroft joined the secretary when he raised his hand. “I fear that it’s three all, Mr. Chairman, so once again you have the casting vote.”
“On this occasion,” said Sir Francis without hesitation, “I vote against Finch being reinstated.”
Hinks immediately entered the result in the minute book and, before the ink was dry, announced, “The Everest Committee has decided, by four votes to three, that George Finch should not be reinstated as a member of the climbing party.” He closed the minute book.
“May I ask what caused you to change your mind on this occasion, Mr. Chairman?” asked George calmly.
“Not keeping to his agreement with the RGS was the final straw for me,” said Sir Francis, glancing at the portrait of the Society’s president. “However, I also suspect that His Majesty would not be pleased to be told that a divorced man was the first person to stand on top of the world.”
“What a pity Henry the Eighth wasn’t your president when the first attempt on Everest was considered,” said George
quietly. He slowly gathered up his papers and rose from his place. “I must apologize, Mr. Chairman, but you have left me with no choice but to resign as a member of this committee, and to withdraw my name as climbing leader. Naturally I wish my successor every good fortune. Good day, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Mallory,” said Hinks, before George had reached the door. “I hope your decision will not prevent you from delivering the memorial lecture to the RGS this evening. The event has been sold out for weeks, and indeed the—”
“I shall of course honor my agreement,” said Mallory. “But should anyone ask me why I have resigned from this committee and will not be leading the forthcoming expedition to Everest, I shall not hesitate to tell them that I was overruled when it came to the selection of the climbing party.”
“So be it,” said Hinks. Mallory left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
“Bang goes Noel’s eight thousand pounds,” said Raeburn as he stubbed out his cigar. “Which leaves us with little choice but to cancel the whole damn shindig.”
“Not necessarily,” said Hinks quietly. “You will have noticed, gentlemen, that I did not record Mallory’s resignation in the minute book. I still have a couple of cards up my sleeve, which I intend to play before the evening is out.”
George quickly made his way out of the hall and across the corridor to the speaker’s room. He didn’t stop to chat to anyone on the way, for fear they might ask him a question that he didn’t want to answer until after he’d given his lecture. He also needed to use the forty minutes to compose his thoughts, as he knew he was about to deliver the most important speech of his life.
When he walked into the speaker’s room he was surprised to find Ruth waiting for him.
“What happened?” she asked when she saw the expression of anger on his face.
George paced up and down the room while he gave Ruth a blow-by-blow account of what had taken place at the committee meeting. He finally came to a halt in front of her. “I did do the right thing, didn’t I, darling?”
Ruth had anticipated the question, and knew that all she had to say was Yes, of course you were right to resign, my darling. Hinks behaved disgracefully, and unless Finch is reinstated, you’ll be taking far too great a risk. And don’t let’s forget it’s your life, not his, that will be at risk.
George stood there, waiting for her reply.
“Let’s hope that you won’t live to regret your decision,” was all she said. She jumped up from her chair before George could press her further. “I’ll leave you now, my darling. I only popped by to wish you luck. I realize you’ll need these last few minutes to prepare yourself for such an important occasion.” She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, and left without another word.
George sat at the little desk and tried to go over his notes, but his thoughts kept returning to the committee meeting, and Ruth’s ambiguous response to his question.
There was a gentle tap on the door. George wondered who it could possibly be. It was one of the Society’s golden rules that a speaker must not be interrupted during his final moments of preparation. When he saw Hinks come marching through the door, he could have happily punched the damn man on the nose, until he noticed who was following close behind him. George leaped to his feet and bowed.