midnight
Taxi-drivers gossip among themselves , so a private car is better ... . Excuse the rush , Lady Hermione , and you , too , Mrs. Curtis . I have n't another minute to spare . '' Luckily , Curtis found his overcoat awaiting him in the cloak room , or he might have been in a difficulty , for New York in November is not a city which encourages midnight journeys in evening dress . Uncle Horace and Aunt Louisa were hurried into a taxi , and as they were being whisked off to the quiet hotel to which their baggage had been consigned , the stout man began polishing his domed forehead once more . `` Lou , '' he said , `` I ca n't make head nor tail of this business . Can you ? ''