the hour of
eight
Across his face and shoulders were the charred remains of what undoubtedly had been curtains on that window . A three-socketed candle-stick filled with partially burned candles which doubtless had been knocked from the table was mute evidence of how the tiny flame had started upon its short march . As to the man 's injuries , a blow from behind had evidently crushed his skull and , though the face was seared and burned , though the curtain 's partial ashes covered more than a half of it , though the eye-lashes above the sightless eyes were singed and the trim beard burned to black stubs , the face gave mute evidence of being that of Frederick Cavendish . In this grim scene a tiny clock on the mantel began pealing the hour of eight . As though this were a signal for entrance , the door at the end of the bookcase opened noiselessly and a man , smooth faced , his hair brushed low across his forehead , stepped quietly in . As his eyes surveyed the grewsome object by the table , they dilated with horror ; then his whole body stiffened and he fled back into the hall , crashing the door behind him . Ten minutes later he returned , not alone , however .