two o’clock
Nobody dared to approach till some Cossacks of a street-patrol galloped up and , dismounting , began to turn over the dead . Amongst the innocent victims of the second explosion laid out on the pavement there was a body dressed in a peasant 's sheepskin coat ; but the face was unrecognisable , there was absolutely nothing found in the pockets of its poor clothing , and it was the only one whose identity was never established . That day Mr. Razumov got up at his usual hour and spent the morning within the University buildings listening to the lectures and working for some time in the library . He heard the first vague rumour of something in the way of bomb-throwing at the table of the students ' ordinary , where he was accustomed to eat his two o'clock dinner . But this rumour was made up of mere whispers , and this was Russia , where it was not always safe , for a student especially , to appear too much interested in certain kinds of whispers . Razumov was one of those men who , living in a period of mental and political unrest , keep an instinctive hold on normal , practical , everyday life . He was aware of the emotional tension of his time ; he even responded to it in an indefinite way .