ve then said, "I
will go up," had I been in a position to say anything at all. Saved by
the gag, I have won the war against the Genevois.

I have taken the standpoint of the prophet, who, as you know, is not
without honour abroad--a prophet with the policy outlined above. When
a prophet of my sort decides on a policy, and that policy consists of
doing nothing, he takes a lot of shifting, even on the flat. And there
the matter and I remained, when there arrived from England, on or
about November 15th, a positive cloud of prophets, intent on the
League of Nations. The busiest figure among them is the secretary of
one of the delegates. Pretending to be my best friend he sought the
occasion of a heart-to-heart with me. I took it he wanted to discuss
Nations; it appeared he wanted to discuss mountains. I hoped he was
considering them generally in mass, possibly with the view of making a
League of them. He was thinking in the particular, and you can guess
what particular. He was beginning to think of wanting to go up It.

In an effective speech, which brought tears to my eyes but merely gave
him an opportunity to fill and light his pipe, I put all the "cons"
before him, particularly the passport part. As a man speaking with the
authority behind him of a world leagued together, he detailed all
the "pros." We must act together, he and I; he would assemble the
prophets, I the passports.

I refused to be bullied by him. He named some major prophets, whom I
should find it more difficult to withstand. His propaganda amongst
them apparently began at once. Mark the sequence of events:--

On Tuesday, November 16th, His Majesty's Minister-Plenipotentiary and
Envoy-Extraordinary in Switzerland assembled the British element to
dinner. I have reason to know that he had already been approached
by the secretary. The Crown of Mont Blanc was freely discussed and
curiosity was aroused as to the identity, the desirability, even the
approachability of the nearer mountain.

On Wednesday, November 17th, I ran into Lieut.-Col. His Highness the
JAM SAHIB of NAWANAGAR--"RANJI," in brief. He was standing at the
entrance of his hotel in significant meditation. The entrance of his
hotel looks upon The Saleve and past it to the Crown of Mont Blanc.
And that was where he looked.

On Friday, November 19th, I found the Right Hon. G. N. BARNES walking
along the Quai de Mont Blanc in the fatal direction. His eyebrows
pointed relentlessly upward.

On