I was staggered at his nerve. 'You mean to say you've really no idea what happened?' I demanded angrily. 'Christ! You've got a nerve, Mayne.' I was trembling. 'Why did you take that steep slope as a direct run? You had to Christi at the bottom to avoid the soft snow on the other side of the valley. And you knew I couldn't Christi.'
'But I didn't Christi,' he said, and looked me straight in the eyes, perfectly cool. 'There was quite a nice banking turn at the bottom. I took it as a straight turn. I know it was a bit fast, but there was nothing difficult about it. I certainly didn't have to Christi.'
That's a lie,' I said.
He gazed at me in astonishment. 'I repeat: I did not have to Christi. You'd made out so well, I thought you'd take that bit in your stride.'
'You knew very well I couldn't take it in my stride.' I felt calmer now. 'You had to Christi and you knew I was bound to crash into that soft snow.'
'Oh, for God's sake!' he said. 'What are you trying to prove?'
I looked at him for a moment. Could I have been mistaken? But that swirl of torn-up snow in the bottom of that valley — the picture of it was so clear in my mind. I said, 'Mind if I ask you a question?'
'Of course not.'
'You joined the Army in 1942. What happened to you after you landed in Italy?'
He looked puzzled. 'I don't get what you're driving at, Blair,' he said. 'I joined the Army in 1940, not 1942. Went overseas in '43 — North Africa. I was a troop commander in an Ack-Ack Regiment. We landed at Salerno. I was taken prisoner, escaped and then joined UNRRA and went to Greece. But what's that got to do with—?'