four p.m.
I can not trace the feeling to its root ; perhaps the place was built by an Anglo-Indian . Anyone passing this house , I say , would be namelessly fascinated by it ; would feel that it was a place about which some story was to be told . And he would have been right , as you shall shortly hear . For this is the story -- the story of the strange things that did really happen in it in the Whitsuntide of the year 18 -- : Anyone passing the house on the Thursday before Whit-Sunday at about half-past four p.m. would have seen the front door open , and Father Brown , of the small church of St. Mungo , come out smoking a large pipe in company with a very tall French friend of his called Flambeau , who was smoking a very small cigarette . These persons may or may not be of interest to the reader , but the truth is that they were not the only interesting things that were displayed when the front door of the white-and-green house was opened . There are further peculiarities about this house , which must be described to start with , not only that the reader may understand this tragic tale , but also that he may realise what it was that the opening of the door revealed . The whole house was built upon the plan of a T , but a T with a very long cross piece and a very short tail piece .