Later in the day he might rail against the weather.

But for the moment he was very clear that there were worse things in the world than to lie snug and hear the wind tearing about the cliffs and know that there was no chance of facing it.
"We will not go back to La Berarde," he said.

"The storm may clear.

We will wait in the hut until tomorrow." And from a third figure on the shelf there came in guttural English: "Yes, yes.

Of course." The fourth man had not wakened from his sleep, and it was not until he was shaken by the shoulder at ten o'clock in the morning that he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
The fourth man was Shere Ali.
"Get up and come outside," said Linforth.
Ten years had passed since Shere Ali had taken his long walk from Kohara up the valley in the drawing-room of his house-master at Eton.