midnight
There was no moon and the glaring yellow daytime plain was full of gray-edged shadows , under the far stars of a midnight blue sky , as Esmond Clarenden took the same trail that we had followed in the afternoon . On to the village of Agua Fria , black and silent , he rode until he came to the church door . Here he dismounted , and , quickly securing his horse , he entered the building . The chill midnight wind swept in through the open door behind him , threatening to blot out the flickering candles about the altar . Father Josef came slowly down the aisle to meet him , while a tall man , crouching like a beast about to spring , rather than a penitent at prayer , shrank down in the shadowy corner inside the doorway . The merchant , solid and square-built and fearless , stood before the young priest baring his head as he spoke . `` I come on a grave errand , good Father .