nine o'clock
she asked . `` Nothing , '' replied I , and avoided her persistent eyes . To share an unspoken fear is akin to the knowledge of a common crime . At nine o'clock I sought John Turner in his apartment in the Avenue D'Antan , almost within a stone 's throw of the British Embassy . There are some to whom one naturally turns in time of trouble and perplexity , while the existence of others who are equally important in their own estimation is at such moments forgotten . Our fellows seem to move around us in a circle -- some step out of the rank and touch us as they pass -- one , if it please God , comes out and stands beside us . John Turner had , I suppose , touched me in passing .