seven in the morning
Again that frozen , shrewd , steady study of my soul from her pale-yellow , unwinking eyes , trying to penetrate my mask of deception and rout out my true motives from my lying lips . There was a Mr. Tompkins in the front hall bedroom two flights up . Perhaps it was he I was seeking . He worked of nights ; he never came in till seven in the morning . Or if it was really Mr. Tucker -LRB- thinly disguised as Paley -RRB- that I was hunting I would have to call between five and -- But no ; I held firmly to Paley . There was no such name among her lodgers . Click !