ten o'clock
Donning his hat at its most rakish angle , he wound his cloak around him , holding one end in front as if to conceal his person from the night , of which it was the blackest part , and muttering strangely to himself , stole away through the trees . Peter slept on . The light guttered -LSB- burned to edges -RSB- and went out , leaving the tenement in darkness ; but still he slept . It must have been not less than ten o'clock by the crocodile , when he suddenly sat up in his bed , wakened by he knew not what . It was a soft cautious tapping on the door of his tree . Soft and cautious , but in that stillness it was sinister . Peter felt for his dagger till his hand gripped it .