twelve o'clock
He had let strong drink get hold of him ; well , he had paid by the loss of his money , to say nothing of the way his self-respect had been bruised by this jester . Near Buckingham Palace he turned back , walking by the way he had come , and leaving the park at the new gate . He crossed the plexus of ways where Northumberland Avenue debouches on Trafalgar Square . It was near twelve o'clock , and the first evening papers were out . A hawker with a bundle of papers under his arm and a yellow poster in front of him like an apron , drew his attention ; at least the poster did . `` Suicide of an American in London ! '' were the words on the poster .