Paths of Glory by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online

to forget,” he added with a warm smile. He looked down at his clipboard. “You’ve been allocated a room on staircase seven, sir, the Pepys Building. I normally escort freshmen on their first day of term, but you seem to be a gentleman who can find his own way.” George laughed. “Across First Court and through the archway.”
    “Thank you,” said George, picking up his suitcase and heading toward the door.
    “And sir.” George turned back as the porter rose from his chair. “I believe this is yours.” He handed George another leather suitcase with the letters GLM printed in black on its side. “And do try to be on time for your six o’clock appointment, sir.”
    “My six o’clock appointment?”
    “Yes, sir, you are bidden to join the Master for drinks in the lodgings. He likes to acquaint himself with the new undergraduates on the first day of term.”
    “Thank you for reminding me,” said George. “By the way, has my friend Guy Bullock turned up?”
    “He has indeed, sir.” Once again the porter looked down at his list. “Mr. Bullock arrived over two hours ago. You’ll find him on the landing above you.”
    “That will be a first,” said George without explanation.
    As George walked toward First Court, he was careful not to step on the grass, which looked as if it had been cut with a pair of scissors. He passed several undergraduates, some dressed in long gowns to show that they were scholars, others in short gowns to indicate that, like himself, they were exhibitioners, while the rest didn’t wear gowns, just mortar boards, which they occasionally raised to each other.
    No one gave George a second look, and certainly no one raised their mortar board to him as he walked by, which brought back memories of his first day at Winchester. He couldn’t suppress a smile when he passed Mr. A. C. Benson’s staircase. The senior tutor had telegrammed the day after their meeting, offering George a history exhibition. In a later letter he informed him that he would be tutoring him himself.
    George continued on through the archway into Second Court, which housed the Pepys Building, until he came to a narrow corridor marked with a bold 7 . He dragged his cases up the wooden steps to the second floor, where he saw a door with the name G. L. Mallory painted on it in silver letters. How many names had appeared on that door over the past century, he wondered.
    He entered a room not much larger than his study at Winchester, but at least he would not be expected to share the tiny space with Guy. He was still unpacking when there was a knock on the door, and Guy strolled in without waiting for an invitation. The two young men shook hands as if they had never met before, laughed, and then threw their arms around each other.
    “I’m on the floor above you,” said Guy.
    “I’ve already made my views clear on that ridiculous notion,” responded George.
    Guy smiled when he saw the familiar chart that George had already pinned to the wall above his desk.

Ben Nevis
4,409 ft.
Great St. Bernard
8,101 ft.
Mont Vélan
12,353 ft.
Grand Combin
14,153 ft.
Monte Rosa
15,217 ft.
Mont Blanc
15,774 ft.

    “You seem to have forgotten Montmartre,” he said. “Not to mention the Eiffel Tower.”
    “The Eiffel Tower is only 1,062 feet,” replied George. “And you seem to have forgotten that I didn’t reach the top.”
    Guy glanced at his watch. “We’d better get going if we’re not to be late for the Master.”
    “Agreed,” said George, and quickly slipped on his gown.
    As the two young undergraduates strolled across Second Court toward the Master’s lodgings, George asked Guy if he knew anything about their head of house.
    “Only what Mr. Irving told me. Apparently he was our man in Berlin before he retired from the Foreign Office. He had a reputation for being pretty blunt with the Germans. According to Irving, even the Kaiser was wary of him.”
    George straightened his tie as they joined a stream of young men who