He returned to his room and got out one of the giant sheets of squared paper with which he had been furnished. He sat down at his table and wrote firmly at the top centre of the paper 'Guillaume de Bleuville, 1207-1243'. Now there were five hundred years of de Bleuvilles, with their wives and children, to be copied down from his books and notes. That would fill up an impressive number of pages with impeccable fact. He could certainly spread that chore over three days, interspersed2 with more tricky3 work - gassing with Blofeld about the Blofeld end of the story. Fortunately there were some English Blofields he could throw in as makeweight. And some Bluefields and Blumfields. He could start some pretty hares running in those directions! And, in between these idiotic4 activities, he would ferret and ferret away at the mystery of what in hell the new Blofeld, the new SPECTRE, were up to!
One thing was certain, they had already been through his belongings5. Before going for his interview, Bond had gone into the bathroom, away from that seemingly watchful7 hole in the ceiling, and had painfully pulled out half a dozen of his hairs. These, while he had selected the books he needed to take with him, he had dispersed8 inconspicuously among his other papers and in his passport. The hairs were all gone. Someone had been through all his books. He got up and went to the chest of drawers, ostensibly for a handkerchief. Yes, the careful patterns in which he had laid out his things had all been minutely disturbed. Unemotionally he went back to his work, thanking heaven he had travelled as 'clean' as a whistle! But by God he'd have to keep his cover solid! He didn't at all like the thought of that one-way trip down the bob-run!
Bond got as far as 1350 and then the noise from the veranda9 became too distracting. Anyway, he had done a respectable stint10, almost to the bottom of the giant page. He would go out and do a little very discreet11 exploring. He wanted to get his bearings, or rather confirm them, and this would be a perfectly12 reasonable activity for a newcomer. He had left his door into the passage ajar. He went out and along to the reception lounge, where the man in the plum coat was busy entering the names of the morning's visitors in a book. Bond's greeting was politely answered. There was a ski-room and workshop to the left of the exit. Bond wandered in. One of the Balkan types was at the workbench, screwing a new binding13 on to a ski. He looked up and went on with his work while Bond gazed with seeming curiosity at the ranks of skis standing14 along the wall. Things had changed since his day. The bindings were quite different and designed, it seemed, to keep the heel dead flat on the ski. And there were new safety releases. Many of the skis were of metal and the ski-sticks were fibre-glass lances that looked to Bond extremely dangerous in the event of a bad fall. Bond wandered over to the work-bench and feigned15 interest in what the man was doing. In fact he had seen something that excited him very much - an untidy pile of lengths of thin plastic strip for the boot to rest on in the binding, so that, on the shiny surface, snow would not ball under the sole. Bond leaned over the work-bench, resting on his right elbow, and commented on the precision of the man's work. The man grunted16 and concentrated all the more closely to avoid further conversation. Bond's left hand slid under his leaning arm, secured one of the strips and slid it up his sleeve. He made a further inane17 comment, which was not answered, and strolled out of the ski-room.
(When the man in the workshop heard the front door hiss18 shut, be turned to the pile of plastic strips and counted them carefully twice. Then he went out to the man in the plum-coloured coat and spoke19 to him in German. The man nodded and picked up the telephone receiver and dialled O. The workman went stolidly20 back to his ski-room.)
As Bond strolled along the path that led to the cable station, he transferred the plastic strip from his sleeve to his trouser pocket, feeling pleased with himself. He had at least provided himself with one tool - the traditional burglar's tool for opening the Yale-type locks that secured the doors.
Away from the club house, to which only a thin trickle21 of smart-looking people were making their way, he got into the usual mountain-top crowd - people swarming22 out of the cable-head, skiers wobbling or schussing down the easy nursery slopes on the plateau, little groups marshalled under individual teachers and guides from the valley. The terrace of the public restaurant was already crowded with the underprivileged who hadn't got the money or the connexions to join the club. He walked below it on the well-trampled snow and stood among the skiers at the top of the first plunging24 schuss of the Gloria run. A large notice-board, crowned with the G and the coronet, announced GLORIA ABFAHRT! Then below, ROT - FREIE FAHRT. GELB - FREIE FAHRT.
SCHWARZ - GESPERRT, meaning that the red and yellow runs were open but the black dosed, presumably because of avalanche25 danger. Below this again was a painted metal map of the three runs. Bond had a good look at it, reflecting that it might be wise to commit to memory the red, which was presumably the easiest and most popular. There were red, yellow, and black marker flags on the map, and Bond could see the actual flags fluttering way down the mountain until the runs, studded with tiny moving figures, disappeared to the left, round the shoulder of the mountain and under the cable railway. The red seemed to continue to zigzag26 under the cable and between the few high pylons27 until it met the tree line. Then there was a short stretch of wood-running until the final easy schuss across the undulating lower meadows to the bottom cable-head, beyond which lay the main railway line and then the Pontresina-Samaden road. Bond tried to get it all fixed28 in his mind. Then he watched some of the starts. These varied29 between the arrow-like dive of the Kannonen, the stars, who took the terrific schuss dead straight in a low crouch30 with their sticks jauntily31 tucked under their arm-pits, the average amateur who braked perhaps three or four times on his way down, and the terrified novice32 who, with stuck-out behind, stemmed his way down, his skis angled and edged like a snow-plough, with occasional straight runs diagonally across the polished slope - dashing little sprints33 that usually ended in a mild crash as he ran off the flattened34 surface into the thick powder snow that edged the wide, beaten piste.
The scene was the same as a thousand others Bond had witnessed when, as a teenager, he learned his skiing in the old Hannes Schneider School at St Anton in the Arlberg. He had got pretty good and had won his golden K, but the style in those days was rudimentary compared with what he was now witnessing from the occasional expert who zoomed35 down and away from beside him. Today the metal skis seemed to run faster and truer than the old steel-edged hickory. There was less shoulder-work and the art of Wedeln, a gentle waggling of the hips36, was a revelation. Would it be as effective in deep new snow as it was on the well-beaten piste? Bond was doubtful, but he was envious37 of it. It was so much more graceful38 than the old Arlberg crouch. Bond wondered how he would fare on this terrific run. He would certainly not dare to take the first schuss straight. He would brake at least twice, perhaps there and there. And his legs would be trembling before he had been going for five minutes. His knees and ankles and wrists would be giving out. He must get on with his exercises!
Bond, excited, left the scene and followed arrows that pointed39 to the GLORIA EXPRESS BOB-RUN. It lay on the other side of the cable station. There was a small wooden hut, the starter's hut, with telephone-wires connected to the station, and, beneath the cable station, a little 'garage' that housed the bob-sleighs and one-man skeleton-bobs. A chain, with a notice on it.saying ABFAHRTEN TДGLICH 0900-1100, was stretched across the wide mouth of the gulch40 of blue ice that curved away to the left and then disappeared over the shoulder. Here again was a metal map showing the zigzag course of the run down into the valley. In deference41 to the English traditions at the sport, outstanding curves and hazards were marked with names such as 'Dead Man's Leap', 'Whizz-Bang Straight', 'Battling S', 'Hell's Delight', 'The Boneshaker', and the finishing straight down 'Paradise Alley23'. Bond visualized42 the scene that morning, heard again that heart-rending scream. Yes, that death certainly had the old Blofeld touch!
'Sair Hilary! Sair Hilary!'
Startled out of his thoughts, Bond turned. Fraulein Irma Bunt, her short arms akimbo, was standing on the path to the club.
'Lunch time! Lunch!'
'Coming,' Bond called back, and strolled up the slope towards her. He noted43 that, even in that hundred yards, his breathing was shallow and his limbs were heavy. This blasted height! He really must get into training!
He came up with her. She looked surly. He said that he was sorry, he had not noticed the time. She said nothing. The yellow eyes surveyed him with active dislike before she turned her back and led the way along the path.
Bond looked back over the morning. What had he done? Had he made a mistake? Well, he just might have. Better re-insure! As they came through the entrance into the reception lounge, Bond said casually44, 'Oh, by the way, Fraulein Bunt, I was in the ski-room just now.'
She halted. Bond noticed that the head of the receptionist bent45 a fraction lower over his visitors' book.
'Yes?'
Bond took the length of plastic out of his pocket. 'I found just what I wanted.' He stitched a smile of innocent pleasure on his face. 'Like an idiot I forgot to bring a ruler with me. And there were these things on the work-bench. Just right. So I borrowed one. I hope that was all right. Of course I'll leave it behind when I go. But for these family trees, you know9 - Bond sketched46 a series of descending47 straight lines in the air - 'one has to get them on the right levels. I hope you don't mind.' He smiled charmingly. 'I was going to confess the nest time I saw you.'
Irma Bunt veiled her eyes. ' It is of no consequence. In future, anything you need you will perhaps ring for, isn't it? The Count wishes you to have every facility. Now' - she gestured - 'if you will perhaps go out on the terrace. You will be shown to our table. I will be with you in a moment.'
Bond went through the restaurant door. Several of the interior tables were occupied by those who had had enough sun. He went across the room and out through the now open french windows. The man Fritz, who appeared to be the maitre d'hotel, came towards him through the crowded tables. His eyes too were cold with hostility48. He held up a menu. 'Please to follow me.'
Bond followed him to the table up against the railing. Ruby49 and Violet were already there. Bond felt almost lighthearted with relief at having clean hands again. By God, he must pay attention, take care! This time he had got away with it. And he still had the strip of plastic! Had he sounded innocent enough, stupid enough? He sat down and ordered a double medium-dry vodka Martini, on the rocks, with lemon peel, and edged his feet up against Ruby's.
She didn't withdraw hers. She smiled. Violet smiled. They all started talking at once. It was suddenly a beautiful day.
Fraulein Bunt appeared and took her place. She was gracious again. 'I am so pleased to hear that you will be staying with us for a whole week, Sair Hilary. You enjoyed your interview with the Count? Is he not an interesting man?'
'Very interesting. Unfortunately our talk was too short and we discussed only my own subject. I was longing6 to ask him about his research work. I hope he didn't think me very rude.'
Irma Bunt's face closed perceptibly. 'I am sure not. The Count does not often like to discuss his work. In these specialized50 scientific fields, you understand, there is much jealousy51 and, I am sorry to say, much intellectual thieving.' The box-like smile. 'I do not of course refer to yourself, my dear Sair Hilary, but to scientists less scrupulous52 than the Count, to spies from the chemical companies. That is why we keep ourselves very much to ourselves in our little Eagle's Nest up here. We have total privacy. Even the police in the valley are most co-operative in safeguarding us from intruders. They appreciate what the Count is doing.'
'The study of allergies53?'
'Just so.' The maitre d'hotel was standing by her side. His feet came together with a perceptible click. Menus were handed round and Bond's drink came. He took a long pull at it and ordered OBufs Gloria and a green salad. Chicken again for Ruby, cold cuts 'with stacks of potatoes' for Violet. Irma Bunt ordered her usual cottage cheese and salad.
'Don't you girls eat anything but chicken and potatoes? Is this something to do with your allergies?'
Ruby began, 'Well, yes, in a way. Somehow I've come to simply love…'
Irma Bunt broke in sharply. 'Now then, Ruby. No discussion of treatments, you remember? Not even with our good friend Sair Hilary.' She waved a hand towards the crowded tables around them. 'A most interesting crowd, do you not find, Sair Hilary? Everybody who is anybody. We have quite taken the international set away from Gstaad and St Moritz. That is your Duke of Marlborough over there with such a gay party of young things. And near by that is Mr Whitney and Lady Daphne Straight. Is she not chic54? They are both wonderful skiers. And that beautiful girl with the long fair hair at the big table, that is Ursula Andress, the film star. What a wonderful tan she has! And Sir George Dunbar, he always has the most enchanting55 companions.' The box-like smile. 'Why, we only need the Aga Khan and perhaps your Duke of Kent and we would have everybody, but everybody. Is it not sensational56 for the first season?'
Bond said it was. The lunch came. Bond's eggs were delicious - chopped hard-boiled eggs, with a cream and cheese sauce laced with English mustard (English mustard seemed to be the clue to the Gloria specialities), gratings in a copper57 dish. Bond commented on the excellence58 of the cooking.
'Thank you,' said Irma Bunt. 'We have three expert Frenchmen in the kitchen. Men are very good at cooking, is it not?'
Bond felt rather than saw a man approaching their table. He came up to Bond. He was a military-looking man, of about Bond's age, and he had a puzzled expression on his face. He bowed slightly to the ladies, and said to Bond, 'Excuse me, but I saw your name in the visitors' book. It is Hilary Bray59, isn't it?'
Bond's heart sank. This situation had always been a possibility and he had prepared a fumbling60 counter to it. But this was the worst possible moment with that damned woman watching and listening!
Bond said, 'Yes, it is,' with heartiness61.
'Sir Hilary Bray?' The pleasant face was even more puzzled.
Bond got to his feet and stood with his back to his table, to Irma Bunt. 'That's right.' He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose to obscure the next question, which might be fatal.
'In the Lovat Scouts62 during the war?'
'Ah,' said Bond. He looked worried, lowered his voice appropriately. 'You're thinking of my first cousin. From Ben Trilleachan. Died six months ago, poor chap. I inherited the title.'
'Oh, lord!' The man's puzzlement cleared. Grief took its place. 'Sorry to hear that. Great pal63 of mine in the war. Funny! I didn't see anything about it in The Times. Always read the "Births, Marriages, and Deaths". What was it?'
Bond felt the sweat running down under his arms; 'Fell off one of those bloody64 mountains of his. Broke his neck.'
'My God! Poor chap! But he was always fooling around the tops by himself. I must write to Jenny at once.' He held out his hand. 'Well, sorry to have butted65 in. Thought this was a funny place to find old Hilary. Well, so long, and sorry again.' He moved off between the tables. Out of the corner of his eye, Bond saw him rejoin a very English-looking table of men and, obviously, wives, to whom he began talking animatedly66.
Bond sat down, reached for his drink and drained it and went back to his eggs. The woman's eyes were on him. He felt the sweat running down his face. He took out his handkerchief and mopped at it.' Gosh, it's hot out here in the sun! That was some pal of my first cousin's. My cousin had the same name. Collateral67 branch. Died not long ago, poor chap.' He frowned sadly. 'Didn't know this man from Adam. Nice-looking fellow.' Bond looked bravely across the table. 'Do you know any of his party, Fraulein Bunt?'
Without looking at the party, Fraulein Bunt said shortly, 'No, I do not know everyone who comes here.' The yellow eyes were still inquisitive68, holding his. 'But it was a curious coincidence. Were you very alike, you and your cousin?'
'Oh, absolutely,' said Bond, gushing69. 'Spit image. Often used to get taken for each other.' He looked across at the English group. Thank God they were picking up their things and going. They didn't look particularly smart or prosperous. Probably staying at Pontresina or under the ex-officers' scheme at St Moritz. Typical English skiing party. With any luck they were just doing the big runs in the neighbour-' hood70 one by one. Bond reviewed the way the conversation had gone while coffee came and he made cheerful small talk with Ruby, whose foot was again clamped against his, about her skiing progress that morning.
Well, he decided71, the woman couldn't have heard much of it with all the clatter72 and chatter73 from the surrounding tables. But it had been a narrow squeak74, a damned narrow squeak. The second of the day! So much for walking on tiptoe inside the enemy lines! Not good enough! Definitely not good enough!
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1
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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stolidly
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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alley
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plunging
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avalanche
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zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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pylons
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| n.（架高压输电线的）电缆塔( pylon的名词复数 )；挂架 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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varied
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crouch
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jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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novice
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sprints
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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zoomed
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| v.（飞机、汽车等）急速移动( zoom的过去式 )；（价格、费用等）急升，猛涨 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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allergies
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| n.[医]过敏症；[口]厌恶，反感；（对食物、花粉、虫咬等的）过敏症( allergy的名词复数 )；变态反应，变应性 | |
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chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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59
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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60
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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61
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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62
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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63
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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64
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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65
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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66
animatedly
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| adv.栩栩如生地，活跃地 | |
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67
collateral
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| adj.平行的；旁系的；n.担保品 | |
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68
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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69
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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70
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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71
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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72
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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73
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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74
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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