eight o'clock
We had no travellers staying in the house , for we are a good three leagues out of Calais , and too far for the folk who have business in or about the harbour . Only at midday the coffee-room would get full sometimes with people on their way to or from the port . But in the evenings the place was quite deserted , and so lonely that at times we fancied that we could hear the wolves howling in the forest of St. Pierre . It was close on eight o'clock , and my man was putting up the shutters , when suddenly we heard the tramp of feet on the road outside , and then the quick word , `` Halt ! '' The next moment there was a peremptory knock at the door . My man opened it , and there stood four men in the uniform of the 9th Regiment of the Line ... the same that is quartered at Calais . The uniform , of course , I knew well , though I did not know the men by sight .