about three o'clock in the afternoon
He spoke but little . Upon his face was a business-like look of settled determination . At the little _ douane _ post near Ventimiglia , the Italian frontier , we paid the necessary deposit for the car , got the leaden seal attached , and then drew out upon the winding sea-road which leads right along the coast by San Remo , Alassio , and Savona to Genoa . Hour after hour , with a perfect wall of white dust behind us , we kept on until about three o'clock in the afternoon , when we pulled up at an hotel close to the station in busy Genoa . Here we swallowed a hasty meal , and at Bindo 's directions we turned north up the Ronco valley for Alessandria and Turin , my companion explaining that it was his intention to re-enter France again by crossing the Mont Cenis . Then I saw that our journey into Italy was in order to throw the French police off the scent . But even then I could not gather what had actually happened .