The Lonely Skier by Hammond Innes Page B

cog on the rim of the cable drum. ‘Then all we have to do is to knock it out when the sleigh has started down. It will be on the steepest part. There will be an accident. Then I will close the
rifugio
. Afterwards we can search without fear of interruption.’
    â€˜You are certain it is here?’ Keramikos asked.
    â€˜Why else did Stelben buy the place? Why else did his mistress want to buy it? It’s here all right.’
    Keramikos nodded. Then he said, ‘You didn’t trust me before. Why should you trust me now? And why should I trust you?’
    â€˜Case of necessity,’ was the reply.
    Keramikos seemed to consider. ‘It is neat,’ he said. ‘That would dispose of Valdini and the Contessa. And then—’ He stopped abruptly. He was gazing straight at me. ‘I thought you shut the door. There’s a draught coming through it.’ He got to his feet. The torch followed him as he moved towards the door.
    I slipped quickly into the shadows among the piles. The door was thrust open and the light from the torch made the snow glisten. I peered out from behind the support that sheltered me. Keramikos was examining the ground outside the door. He bent down and felt the snow.
    â€˜Anything wrong?’ The other’s voice sounded hollow from the interior of the concrete room.
    â€˜No,’ replied Keramikos. ‘I suppose it was not latched properly.’ He closed the door. It was dark again and the silence of the night drew closer to me.
    A few minutes later they came out. A key grated in the lock of the door and the two shadowy figures disappeared along the path that led back to the belvedere.

4
My Shroud is Driven Snow
    I WAITED THERE for perhaps half an hour. It was very cold and rather eerie in that white silence with only the stars for company. But I was determined to take no chances. Keramikos must not see me return. And I had plenty to occupy my mind as I stood there in the chill darkness.
    But at last the cold drove me in. I moved quietly, keeping to the shadows. I crossed the belvedere in the shadow of a fir tree that had crept across it, for the moon was getting low. The bar room seemed warm and friendly after the cold of the night. I crossed to the bar and poured myself a stiff, neat cognac. It was fire in my chilled stomach. I poured myself another.
    â€˜I have been waiting for you, Mr Blair.’
    I nearly dropped the glass. The voice came from the shadows in the corner by the piano. I swung round.
    It was Keramikos. He was seated on the piano stool. His figure was shadowy in the darkness of the corner, but his glasses reflected the single bar light. He looked like a great toad.
    â€˜Why?’ I asked, and my voice trembled.
    â€˜Because I saw the print of a pair of shoes outside that door. When I touched the prints the snow was wet. It had to be either you or Valdini. Valdini’s room is next to mine. He snores. Your door was open. That was careless, I think.’ He got up. ‘Would you be so kind as to pour me a cognac. It has been cold, waiting for you. Though not as cold, doubtless, as you found it, waiting outside.’
    I poured him a drink.
    He came over and took it from my hand. His hand was large and hairy. It was much steadier than mine.
    â€˜Your health,’ he said with a smile and raised the glass.
    I did not feel in the mood for such a gesture.
    â€˜Why did you wait up for me?’ I asked. ‘And where’s the Austrian fellow?’
    â€˜The Austrian fellow?’ He peered at me through his glasses. ‘You did not see him, eh?’ He nodded as though satisfied about something. ‘He’s gone,’ he said. ‘He does not know you were there. I waited up for you because there are some questions I would like to ask you.’
    â€˜And there are a few I’d like to ask you,’ I said.
    â€˜I’ve no doubt,’ he replied curtly. ‘But you would be a fool to expect me to