midnight
Very cautiously , the door opened , and revealed a stout man with a humorous , clean-shaven face . On a table lay a scattered sheaf of rough and yellow paper , penciled over in a cramped and interlined hand . The stout man 's thinning hair was rumpled over a perspiring forehead . Across the carpet was a worn stretch that bespoke much midnight pacing . The signs were those of authorship . `` Why did n't you answer your ` phone ? '' smiled Lescott , though he knew .