About eleven o’clock
Why bury ourselves with our work in obscure retreats in the depths of woods , if it may not protect us against those dangerous threats to life which meet us in the busy cities ? `` Now , Monsieur Stangerson , '' said Monsieur de Marquet , with somewhat of an important air , `` place yourself exactly where you were when Mademoiselle Stangerson left you to go to her chamber . '' Monsieur Stangerson rose and , standing at a certain distance from the door of `` The Yellow Room '' , said , in an even voice and without the least trace of emphasis -- a voice which I can only describe as a dead voice : `` I was here . About eleven o'clock , after I had made a brief chemical experiment at the furnaces of the laboratory , needing all the space behind me , I had my desk moved here by Daddy Jacques , who spent the evening in cleaning some of my apparatus . My daughter had been working at the same desk with me . When it was her time to leave she rose , kissed me , and bade Daddy Jacques goodnight . She had to pass behind my desk and the door to enter her chamber , and she could do this only with some difficulty .