ten minutes before twelve
I could not concentrate my mind upon my book -- no book could have held the slightest part of my attention at that time . My thoughts were all for Carleton Barker , and I doubt if , when the clock hands pointed to half after eleven , Barker himself was more apprehensive over what was to come than I. I found myself holding my watch in my hand , gazing at the dial and counting the seconds which must intervene before the last dreadful scene of a life of crime . I would rise from my chair and pace my room nervously for a few minutes ; then I would throw myself into my chair again and stare at my watch . This went on nearly all the morning -- in fact , until ten minutes before twelve , when there came a slight knock at my door . I put aside my nervousness as well as I could , and , walking to the door , opened it . `` I wonder that I have nerve to write of it , Parton , but there upon the threshold , clad in the deepest black , his face pallid as the head of death itself and his hands shaking like those of a palsied man , stood no less a person than Carleton Barker ! `` I staggered back in amazement and he followed me , closing the door and locking it behind him . ''