midnight
The hair on Hawkins 's head stood straight on end . The impulse to hide beneath the covers was conquered by the irresistible desire to know the worst . He whirled in the bed , rising to his elbow , his eyes as big as dollars . Something indescribable had told him that the visitor was no robber midnight marauder . He did not fear physical injury , strange as it may seem . There , in the awful grey light , sitting bolt upright in the Morris chair , was the most appalling visitor that man ever had . For what seemed hours to Hawkins , he gazed into the face of this ghastly being -- the grey , livid , puffy face of a man who had been dead for weeks .