midnight
He bought neither book nor newspaper , but sat in the corner , with his hat drawn over his eyes , for the whole nine hours , thinking . From Plymouth he posted to Turlock , where he arrived late at night , and without having broken fast since morning . He took no pains either to divulge or conceal his name ; he asked no questions , nor was asked any except `` whether he preferred to sleep between sheets or blankets '' -- for Turlock was still an out-of-the-way region , and the little inn about three-quarters of a century behind our modern caravansaries , with their `` daily fly-bills '' and `` electric bells . '' After dinner , which he scarcely touched , he wandered out -- it was his habit to do so , as he told the hostler , who was also the night-chamberlain -- and did not return till long after midnight . He observed , as he gave the man half a crown for sitting up for him to so late an hour , that the moon looked very fine upon the sea . `` You must be a painter , I guess , Sir , '' said the hostler , with a grin of intelligence . `` Why ? ''