one o'clock
At the Garden a Wild West show with rings and side performances had long ago disgorged its crowds and quieted its pandemonium of brass bands . Len Haswell had been walking with the aimlessness of insomnia , and asking himself over and over one question : `` What changed it all ? '' In answer he accused himself and argued the case for the woman without whom he was too lonely to go home and face an empty house . It was after one o'clock and the saloon doors were barred , but as he passed a small place not far from the square , he saw a side door flap , and he entered it . It was an unprepossessing door , outwardly labeled , `` ladies ' entrance . '' Haswell called for whiskey , and was served by a waiter in a spotted apron , whose dank hair fell over a sallow and oily face . Save for himself , there were only four other customers .