seven minutes past eight
When Sheard had gone away again , Inspector Sheffield had found himself , temporarily , in a dilemma . It was something he had not foreseen . But , weighing the chances , he had come to the conclusion to give the others no signal , but to wait . At seven minutes past eight , by Mr. Alden 's electrically lighted timepiece , a car or a cab -- it was impossible , at that distance , to determine which -- dropped a passenger at the Village end of the road . A tall figure , completely enveloped in a huge , caped coat , and wearing a dripping silk hat , walked with a swinging stride towards the ambush -- and entered the gate of the cottage . M. Duquesne , who , from his damp post in a clump of rhododendrons on the left of the door had watched him approach , rubbed his wet hands delightedly . Without the peculiar coat that majestic walk was sufficient .