Explore "Wyndham's Pal" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All was quiet at the mission but for the soft rustle of the palms when a puff of wind came down the hill. The last light had gone out behind the narrow windows across the patio, and Wyndham, looking at his watch, got up.
"We must chance it now," he said. "If all goes well, we ought to reach the port two or three hours before dawn and our hosts won't miss us until the major-domo sends our breakfast."