By Royal Command Read Online Free PDF

but it was Hannes Schneider who developed most of the modern techniques of skiing…’
    Outside, a man in an overcoat and trilby stood in the dark space between two big square houses smoking a cigarette, shielding its glowing tip between cupped hands. Apart from the small adjustments as he smoked, he barely moved at all and seemed unaffected by the cold.
    One by one the lights in the hotel went out.
    It was quiet now. Nobody moved in the streets. Nobody approached the entrance to the Franz Joseph.
    At last the man dropped his cigarette to the ground where it joined a small pile of butts, and he ground it out carefully before slipping away into the shadows.

4
    Austrian Waltzing Blood
     
    James was first up. Before the alarm had even gone off he climbed out of bed, went over to the window and threw back the curtains. The valley was still in shadow, the sun had not yet cleared the top of the Hahnenkamm, but the sky was thrillingly clear and blue. He pushed the window open and drew in a breath of the deliciously cold air. It tasted different from any other air he had ever breathed, sharp and clean and somehow empty.
    James’s room was at the front of the hotel, facing the Hahnenkamm. There were small patches of brown, dead-looking grass spotting its lower slopes, but higher up it was blanketed with snow. He could see the Hahnenkamm-Bahn, the cable-car that ran to the top, parting the pine trees in its path in a long straight line. At the summit the cable-car station was sitting in a halo of light.
    The scene promised so much. He was impatient to get out there.
    Miles Langton-Herring stirred as the cold air filled the room. He sat up and swore at James. James merely laughed.
    ‘What time is it?’ Miles grumbled.
    ‘About a quarter to seven,’ said James.
    ‘We’ve another fifteen minutes before we need to be up.’
    ‘Stay in bed, then,’ said James. ‘It’s all the same to me.’
    ‘At least shut that blasted window, can’t you?’
    James closed the window and went down the corridor to the bathroom, where he washed quickly and combed his hair. He then dressed in silk long johns and a long-sleeved vest. Over this he wore a flannel shirt and woollen jumper, heavy cotton twill trousers and thick socks. Finally he put on his boots and picked up his leather gauntlets. They were joined by a string so that they wouldn’t get lost if they fell off in the snow, and he had to thread them through the sleeves of his waterproof red wind-cheater.
    He was first down to breakfast and filled up on bread and pastries, eggs and ham and cheese, washed down with pure mountain spring water and a strong coffee. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt this carefree.
    As he worked his way through his breakfast, the other boys slowly trickled in to join him. For the most part they looked tired and bleary-eyed. They shuffled about, speaking quietly, and obviously wished they were back in their warm and cosy beds.
    Mr Merriot came over to sit at James’s table. He looked brighter and more alert than his fellow masters. In fact James had never seen him look anything other than comfortably at peace with the world.
    ‘I didn’t have the chance to welcome you back properly last night,’ he said, sitting down and taking out his pipe. ‘How have you been? Actually you need not answer that question. Us English, eh? Always asking each other how we are, and never expecting an honest reply. In your case I know perfectly well how you’ve been. Your aunt filled me in on everything.’ He glanced around the room, leant in closer and went on in a lower voice. ‘It seems we can’t keep you away from trouble, can we, James?’
    ‘It seems not,’ said James with a wry smile.
    ‘But somehow or other you keep bouncing back!’ said Merriot, a little louder. And he stuck his pipe between his lips. He made no attempt to light it, however, and merely sucked the stem thoughtfully as he busied himself with buttering a slice of toast.
    ‘I predict