eight o'clock
Even the ticket holders had been warned that no seat would be held after eight o'clock . Through the crowd came the burly and aggressive form of Robertson Jones , still wearing his dark glasses , and with a disfiguring strip of court plaster across his cheek . At the wicket he made inquiry for his ticket , and was told to stand back and wait . Tickets were held until eight o'clock . In the lobby , flattening himself against the marble wall , he waited , with his hat well down over his face . Crowds of people , mostly women , surged past him , laughing , chattering , feeling in their ridiculous bags for their tickets , or the price of a box of chocolates at the counter , where two red-gold blondes presided . Inside , as the doors swung open , he saw a young fellow in evening dress , giving out handbills , and an exclamation almost escaped him .