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well to telegraph to Courmayeur."

"Why, that's true," said Chayne, and as they walked to the post-office he
argued more to convince himself than Michel Revailloud. "It's very
likely--some quite small accident--a sprained ankle." But the moment
after he had sent the telegram, and when he and Michel stood again
outside the post-office, the fear which was in him claimed utterance.

"The Col des Nantillons is a bad place, Michel, that's the truth. Had
Lattery been detained in the hut he would have found means to send us
word. In weather like this, that hut would be crowded every night; every
day there would be some one coming from Courmayeur to Chamonix. No! I am
afraid of the steep slabs of that rock-wall."

And Michael Revailloud said slowly:

"I, too, monsieur. It is a bad place, the Col des Nantillons; it is not a
quick way or a good way to anywhere, and it is very dangerous. And yet I
am not sure. Monsieur Lattery was very safe on rocks. Ice, that is
another thing. But he would be on rock."

It was evident that Michel was in doubt, but it seemed that Chayne could
not force himself to share it.

"You had better get quietly together what guides you can, Michel," he


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