seven o'clock
At any rate a furore of some sort was connected with his name ... at the time an academic scandal . He had written a book , and he had taught the subject matter of that volume to his classes . What that subject matter was , had long been forgotten , but whatever it was had been considered sufficiently revolutionary to cost Mr. Chambers his post at the university . A silver moon shone over the chimney tops and a chill , impish October wind was rustling the dead leaves when Mr. Chambers started out at seven o'clock . It was a good night , he told himself , smelling the clean , crisp air of autumn and the faint pungence of distant wood smoke . He walked unhurriedly , swinging his cane a bit less jauntily than twenty years ago . He tucked the muffler more securely under the rusty old topcoat and pulled his bowler hat more firmly on his head .