midnight
Simard will need no purgatory in the next world . I kept him on bread and water for a month in my strong room , and at first he demanded absinthe with threats , then grovelled , begging and praying for it . After that a period of depression and despair ensued , but finally his naturally strong constitution conquered , and began to build itself up again . I took him from his prison one midnight , and gave him a bed in my Soho room , taking care in bringing him away that he would never recognise the place where he had been incarcerated . In my dealings with him I had always been that old man , Paul Ducharme . Next morning I said to him : -- ` You spoke of Eugène Valmont . I have learned that he lives in London , and I advise you to call upon him .