nearly one o'clock
So , putting on a different suit , a different collar , and a soft felt hat which I never wore , in a perhaps feeble attempt to transform myself from my usual appearance , I went forth again . My first visit was to the bank , where I saw the manager and explained that the cheque had been stolen from my pocket , though I did not expose the real facts . Then , after he had condoled with me upon my loss , and offered to send the description of the thief to the police at once , I re-entered the taxi , and drove back to Porchester Terrace , alighting a short distance from Althorp House . It was nearly one o'clock , and the sun was high , as I walked beneath the dingy brick walls which separate each short garden from the pavement . In some gardens were stunted trees , blackened by the London smoke , while the houses were mostly large and comfortable , for it is still considered a `` genteel , '' if somewhat decayed neighbourhood . Before that house of horror I paused for a moment . The dingy blinds of yellow holland were drawn at each of the soot-grimed windows , blackened by age and dirt .