eight o'clock
He declined to do even that . While all the world waited , this was Pym 's ultimatum : `` I shall begin the damned thing at eight o'clock . '' Outside , the fog kept changing at intervals from black to white , as lazily from white to black -LRB- the monster blinking -RRB- ; there was not a sound from the street save of pedestrians tapping with their sticks on the pavement as they moved forward warily , afraid of an embrace with the unknown ; it might have been a city of blind beggars , one of them a boy . At eight o'clock Pym rose with a groan and sat down in his stocking-soles to write his delicious tale . He was now alone . But though his legs were wound round his waste-paper basket , and he dipped often and loudly in the saucer , like one ringing at the door of Fancy , he could not get the idea that would set him going . He was still dipping for inspiration when T. Sandys , who had been told to find the second floor for himself , knocked at the door , and entered , quaking .