"But I am thinking it will be deadly cold up there in the darkness on the rocks of the Blaitiere." Michel answered him in the same quiet voice.

On that broad open plateau both men spoke indeed as though they were in a sick chamber.
"While you were away, monsieur, three men without food sat through a night on a steep ice-sheltered ice-slope behind us, high up on the Aiguille du Plan, as high up as the rocks of the Blaitiere.

And not one of them came to any harm." "I know.

I read of it," said Chayne, but he gathered little comfort from the argument.
Michel fumbled in his pocket and drew out a pipe.

"You do not smoke any more ?" he asked.