midnight
The less I understood , the more I believed . Above all others , there was one story -- horrible ! most horrible ! -- which she used to tell at midnight , about a Jew who lived in Paris in a dark alley , and who professed to sell pork pies ; but it was found out at last that the pies were not pork -- they were made of the flesh of little children . His wife used to stand at the door of her den to watch for little children , and , as they were passing , would tempt them in with cakes and sweetmeats . There was a trap-door in the cellar , and the children were dragged down ; and -- Oh ! how my blood ran cold when we came to the terrible trap-door .