two o’clock
`` There 's where we find our best customers , '' laughed the French wanton , as Alan Hawke drew her to his knee , and they laughed merrily over the golden harvest of the sea , the price of the recovered dead . Through the narrow stone fanged streets lumbered along the heavy French hooded carts , driven by squatty men in oil skins and sou ' westers , and laden down with the spoils of the whale , cod , and oyster fisheries . Stout women in huge blue aprons , with baskets on their rounded arms , gossiped at the protecting corners , while the shouts of Landlord Etienne Garcin 's drunken band of sea wolves now began to ring out in the smoky salle a boire . It was two o'clock when the burly form of Etienne Garcin was propelled unceremoniously into Alan Hawke 's room . A grin of satisfaction spread over the bullet-headed old ruffian 's face , and his round gray pig eyes twinkled , as he noted the already established entente cordiale between Jack Blunt 's pal and the wanton spy who was the absent Jack 's own especial pet . But , Alan Hawke was temporarily blind to the universally offered charms of the soubrette as he read Joseph Smith 's careful report . `` That 's the talk ! ''