eleven o'clock
No doubt they rejoiced in the steady downpour that came at half-past nine , but what must have been their joy at ten when the very floodgates of heaven opened wide and let loose all the dammed waters of July and August -LRB- and perhaps some that was being saved up for the approaching September ! -RRB- I have never known it to rain so hard as it did on that Thursday night in August , nor have I ever ceased reviling the fate that instituted , on the very next day , a second season of drought that lasted for nearly six weeks . But we went bravely through that terrible storm , Britton and I , and the vehement Mercedes , up hill and down , over ruts and rocks , across bridges and under them , sozzling and swishing and splashing in the path of great white lights that rushed ahead of us through the gloom . At half-past eleven o'clock we were skidding over the cobblestones of the darkest streets I have ever known , careening like a drunken sailor but not half as surely , headed for the Staatsbahnhof , to which we had been directed by an object in a raincoat who must have been a policeman but who looked more like a hydrant . `` Britton , '' said I , wearily , `` have you ever seen anything like it ? '' `` Once before , sir , '' said he . `` Niagara Falls , sir . ''