‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name.
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