one in
the morning
Thus we came to Andermatt , where not the eye of a mouse seemed open to mark our quick and stealthy passage . We were now on that great mountain highroad that slants in a straight line across almost all Switzerland from Coire to Martigny ; but we kept on it only for a little while , to steal through Hospenthal -- as dead asleep as the other villages -LRB- for Labour had not yet begun to waken in its hard bed -RRB- , and take the southern road that leads to Italy . Thus far , audacity had been laurelled by success . It was near one in the morning , and we were spinning fast up a valley which showed bleakly in the flying lights of our car . Soon Jack called to us that we had crossed the border line of the Canton Ticino , and presently through the blackness twinkled the little lakes which mark the summit of the Pass . We were nearly seven thousand feet above the sea , and suddenly , as we crossed the ridge and began to sail down the dismal Val Tremolo towards Airolo , the great wind that had made majestic music all day and night ceased to blow . We ran into a zone of motionless , ice-cold air , and what seemed an unnatural silence , only the hum of the motor breaking the frozen stillness of these high Alpine solitudes .