seven
o’clock
`` All right ; I 'll be down shortly , '' said Yates , yawning , adding to himself : `` Hang the professor ! '' The sun was streaming in through the east window , but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a short distance above the horizon in the morning . He pulled his watch from the pocket of his vest , hanging on the bedpost . It was not yet seven o'clock . He placed it to his ear , thinking it had stopped , but found himself mistaken . `` What an unearthly hour , '' he said , unable to check the yawns . Yates ' years on a morning newspaper had made seven o'clock something like midnight to him .