Twelve o'clock
`` Good night , M. Levi . '' So concluded an act in this strange comedy . Let us glance for a moment at Thomas Sheard , of the _ Gleaner _ , who sat in his study , his head resting upon his clenched hand , his pipe cold . Twelve o'clock , and the household sleeping . He had spent the early part of the night at Moorgate Place , had written his account of the murder , seen it consigned to the machines , and returned wearily home . Now , in the stillness , he was listening ; every belated cab whose passing broke the silence of the night set his heart beating , for he was listening -- listening for Séverac Bablon . His faith was shaken .