'Yes, on skis. But Mayne is no fool. He will have thought of that, and of the snow-shoes. However, let's investigate.'
He was quite right. Mayne was standing by the open door of the ski room and the clatter of skis told us that he had Keramikos at work tying them up. 'Disposed of the body?' he asked. 'Then come and give a hand with these.' He kept well clear of us as we entered the little room and his eyes were watchful. There were several pairs of skis there besides our own. We tied them in bundles of three and then he had us carry them out on to the belvedere.
Mayne directed us to the concrete machine-room at the top of the slittovia. The snow was very deep, in places over our knees. He unlocked the door for us and we filed in, glad to get out of that biting, snow-laden wind. The place felt chill and damp, and it had that musty smell that all unused concrete buildings have. The machinery was covered with a grey film of concrete dust so that it looked old and disused. But it was well oiled. The snow clung like a white veil to the windows, which were heavily barred. The wind whistled through the slit by which the cable entered. I glanced at the opposite wall. That was where Stelben had shot down those German soldiers, according to the statement of Korporal Holtz. But there were no bullet marks. The concrete presented a smooth, grey, uninteresting front. Engles must have noticed my interest, for he whispered, 'Looks as though Stelben had that re-cemented.'
We stacked the skis and the two pairs of snow-shoes in the corner by the switchboard. Then we went out into the snow again and Mayne locked the door. We fought our way back in the teeth of the wind to the belvedere. Mayne paused at the entrance to the hut. 'We'll start work this afternoon,' he said. 'In the meantime, I'd be glad if you'd stick around the bar as far as possible, so that I can keep an eye on you.'
We went in then. The big room seemed warm. We shook the snow off our clothes and it melted in pools on the floor. Joe was at the bar. 'Where the hell have you all been?' he asked us. 'And what's the matter with Aldo? He's even more stupid than usual. He's broken two glasses and fumbled a bottle of cognac.' Anna was laying the table. She gave us a scared look. The colour had drained out of her face and it no longer looked bright and cheerful. Joe ordered drinks and produced several rolls of film. 'Some skiing shots,' he grunted as we moved over to the bar. 'Gives you some idea of the possibilities of the place.' He handed them to Engles.
'Where have you been doing your developing?' Engles asked.
'Out at the back, in the scullery,' he said. 'Cold as charity. But it's got running water.'
Apparently he had heard nothing. Engles began running through the negatives. Mayne stood apart from us. It was strange, standing there drinking with someone who had heard nothing and was completely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Engles suddenly stopped half-way through the second roll of film. 'What's this shot, Joe?' he asked.
Joe leaned over and glanced at the celluloid. 'Oh, that's a picture I took the night we arrived. Good moonlight shot. Went out and took it from the trees at the edge of the slittovia. Good spooky stuff, isn't it?'