midnight
Looking about casually , he saw that everything was as he had left it , and was about to start for home when he was brought to a standstill by the sudden rattle of a key in the front door . Some one came quickly in , closed the door softly , and entered the counting-room through the door in the iron railing . That division of the bank 's space was connected with the back room by a narrow passageway , now in deep darkness . Uncle Bushrod , firmly gripping his hickory stick , tiptoed gently up this passage until he could see the midnight intruder into the sacred precincts of the Weymouth Bank . One dim gas-jet burned there , but even in its nebulous light he perceived at once that the prowler was the bank 's president . Wondering , fearful , undecided what to do , the old coloured man stood motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway , and waited developments . The vault , with its big iron door , was opposite him .