five minutes past eight
The intricacy of back streets was quite unknown to him , and he seemed at almost every corner to be stepping into yards and cul-de-sacs , from which he had perforce to turn back again . In a short time all sense of the points of the compass was gone . A small ragged urchin asked him the time , and that casual touch of communalism made him feel more at home . He took out his watch -- it was already five minutes past eight : over those high narrow streets , with their thin strip of sky , the big clock of Parliament had boomed the hour and he had not heard it . Away scurried the urchin as though already late for something , excitedly calling on others to follow ; and the King , with the presumption that these running feet would be sure to lead him in the direction where he wished to go , followed them round two corners . After that all trace of them was gone . A sound of shrill singing now struck his ear .