midnight
True , he had the quickest wit of the lot , but had worked over-long in the advertising racket , and many of his schemes resembled those of a hen on a hot griddle . Nick turned to the secretary . `` If you have all this down , Asta , I 'll consider a motion to adjourn . '' It was an hour short of midnight and snowing in Moscow when Nick landed in the printing room of Pravda , the official Red journal . As he had calculated , several sample newspapers had been run off . Vichy Volonsky , a short , roundheaded man , had held up the rest of the issue while he studied the content through his nose-glasses . Editor Blochensk and the mechanics anxiously awaited the great man 's verdict .