a quarter to one
I , starting after Sapt , took a shorter route , skirting the town to the left , and found myself in the outskirts of the forest at about half-past twelve . I tied my horse up in a thick clump of trees , leaving the revolver in its pocket in the saddle -- it would be no use to me -- and , ladder in hand , made my way to the edge of the moat . Here I unwound my rope from about my waist , bound it securely round the trunk of a tree on the bank , and let myself down . The Castle clock struck a quarter to one as I felt the water under me and began to swim round the keep , pushing the ladder before me , and hugging the Castle wall . Thus voyaging , I came to my old friend , `` Jacob 's Ladder , '' and felt the ledge of the masonry under me . I crouched down in the shadow of the great pipe -- I tried to stir it , but it was quite immovable -- and waited . I remember that my predominant feeling was neither anxiety for the King nor longing for Flavia , but an intense desire to smoke ; and this craving , of course , I could not gratify .