seven o'clock
Can I breakfast with you ? '' `` Certainly , my boy ! '' Dr. Cairn glanced at his watch . `` Why , upon my soul it 's seven o'clock ! '' Sixteen hours had elapsed and London 's clocks were booming eleven that night , when the uncanny drama entered upon its final stage . Once more Dr. Cairn sat alone with Sir Michael 's manuscript , but at frequent intervals his glance would stray to the telephone at his elbow . He had given orders to the effect that he was on no account to be disturbed and that his car should be ready at the door from ten o'clock onward .