ten minutes to one
He crossed the roadway by the Albert Gate , and by the time he reached the Park railings the old distance separated us once more . Half-way up the slope he came to a halt , by the stone drinking-trough : and flattening myself against the railings , I saw him try the thin ice in the trough with his finger-tips , but in a hesitating way , as if his thoughts ran on something else and he scarcely knew what he did or why he did it . It must have been half a minute before he recovered himself with a shrug of his shoulders , and plunging both hands deep in his pockets , resumed his pace . As we passed Hyde Park Corner I glanced up at the clock there : the time was between a quarter and ten minutes to one . At the entrance of Down Street he turned aside again , and began to lead me a zigzag dance through the quiet thoroughfare : and I followed , still to the tune of the `` Wiener Blut . '' But now , at the corner of Charles Street , I blundered against another policeman , who flashed his lantern in my face , stared after Gervase , and asked me what my game was . I demanded innocently enough to be shown the nearest way to Oxford Street , and the fellow , after pausing a moment to chew his suspicions , walked with me slowly to the south-west corner of Berkeley Square , and pointed northwards .