about a quarter to eleven o'clock
The night was not dark , it seldom is dark in these northern islands so late in May , but there was a light of the moon at its first quarter , and a glint of some stars shone down upon us as we hearkened to the stillness of the air and to a frequent movement of a tired horse in the stable . Our bivouac was a clump of trammon trees -LRB- elders -RRB- at the corner of the orchard which adjoined the farm buildings . Between us and the dwelling house there was a disused pigsty . At about a quarter to eleven o'clock a man , with a red setter dog at his heels and a fowling piece on his arm , came sneaking up , and crept into the sty . Then there was another long spell of silence , not broken , but rather intensified , by the words which I whispered to Fred Harcourt that the fellow who crept into the sty was Kit Kermode , and that he could be after no good . At midnight a cock crew at the far end of the village , and a dog barked . Then there was silence again , save that every now and again a sedge warbler , far away by the stream near Shenvarla , sang a faintly audible song .