nearly four o'clock
The respectables directed ; the scum and the scruff of the town followed , yelping not unlike a pack of hungry dogs . John Kollander led the way to the country club grounds . There was a wide stretch of rolling land , quiet , remote from passing intruders , safe ; and there great elm trees cast their protecting shade , even in the starlight , over such deeds as men might wish to do in darkness . It was nearly four o'clock and the clouds , banked high in the west , were flaming with heat lightning . On the wide veranda of the country club alone , with a siphon and a fancy , square , black bottle , sat Judge Thomas Van Dorn . He was in his shirt sleeves . His wilted collar , grimy and bedraggled , lay on the floor beside him .