An hour or more passed; the storm showed no signs of abatement.

Their speed now rarely exceeded ten or fifteen miles an hour.

Mr.Dunster smoked all the time, occasionally rubbing the window-pane and trying to look out.

Gerald Fentolin slept fitfully.
"Have you any idea where we are ?" Mr.Dunster asked once.
The boy cautiously let down the window a little way.

With the noise of the storm came another sound, to which he listened for a moment with puzzled face: a dull, rumbling sound like the falling of water.