twelve
      o’clock
asked Holmes . `` Absolute exhaustion -- possibly mere hunger and fatigue , '' said I , with my finger on the thready pulse , where the stream of life trickled thin and small . `` Return ticket from Mackleton , in the north of England , '' said Holmes , drawing it from the watch-pocket . `` It is not twelve o'clock yet . He has certainly been an early starter . '' The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver , and now a pair of vacant grey eyes looked up at us . An instant later the man had scrambled on to his feet , his face crimson with shame .