midnight
The night was still black , but the industrial day had dawned in the Five Towns . Long series of carts without springs began to jolt past under the window of Mr Cowlishaw , and then there was a regular multitudinous clacking of clogs and boots on the pavement . A little later the air was rent by first one steam-whistle , and then another , and then another , in divers tones announcing that it was six o'clock , or five minutes past , or half-past , or anything . The periodicity of earthquakes had by this time quickened to five minutes , as at midnight . A motor-car emerged under the archway of the hotel , and remained stationary outside with its engine racing . And amid the earthquakes , the motor-car , the carts , the clogs and boots , and the steam muezzins calling the faithful to work , Mr Cowlishaw could still distinguish the tireless , monstrous sighing of the Cauldon Bar blast furnaces . And , finally , he heard another sound .