midnight
After the latter had turned the corner of Pike Street , Uncle Mosha lingered to take the morning air . A fresh breeze from the southwest brought with it a faint odour of salt herring and onions from the grocery store next door , while from the bakery across the street came the fragrant evidence of a large batch of _ Kümmel brod _ . He sighed contentedly and turned to reënter the house , but even as he did so he wheeled about in response to the greeting : `` How do you do , Mr. Kronberg ? '' The speaker was none other than Morris Perlmutter , who had tossed on his pillow until past midnight devising a plan for approaching Uncle Mosha in a plausible manner . Now that his quarry had fallen so opportunely within his grasp , Morris 's face wreathed itself in smiles of such amiability that Uncle Mosha grew at once suspicious . `` You got the advantage from me , '' he said . `` Why , do n't you know me ? ''