about the hour of ten
He lived in the finest house in town , kept a carriage and was a most estimable man variously . He knew something of the advantages of travel , too , having been frequently in Boston , and once , it was thought , in New York , though he modestly disclaimed that glittering distinction . The matter is mentioned here merely as a contribution to an understanding of Mr. Creede 's worth , for either way it is creditable to him -- to his intelligence if he had put himself , even temporarily , into contact with metropolitan culture ; to his candor if he had not . One pleasant summer evening at about the hour of ten Mr. Creede , entering at his garden gate , passed up the gravel walk , which looked very white in the moonlight , mounted the stone steps of his fine house and pausing a moment inserted his latchkey in the door . As he pushed this open he met his wife , who was crossing the passage from the parlor to the library . She greeted him pleasantly and pulling the door further back held it for him to enter . Instead he turned and , looking about his feet in front of the threshold , uttered an exclamation of surprise .