‘Thank you, Madame Webley,’ the receptionist said pleasantly. ‘I hope your throat is feeling better this morning.’ Alex replied with a smile and a little so-so wave of the hand. Sauntering leisurely through the town, looking in shop windows, trying to be noticed by as many people as possible, Alex arrived at the Montenvers mountain railway station on the edge of town just in time to board the eight o’clock service. The bright red, two carriage, rack-and-pinion train slowly zigzagged its way up the steep mountainside, through tunnels and over precarious bridges, to the Mer de Glace terminus at over six thousand feet. The huge glacier, whose name means literally Sea of Ice, was a popular tourist attraction and useful setting-off point for high altitude walkers and climbers. Despite the early hour, the carriages were packed with tourists and a few climbers, anxious to make the most of the pure, early morning light and the clear mountain air. When the train finally ground to a halt at the terminus, the crowd surged out onto the terrace overlooking the glacier, from which three paths led in different directions.
