eleven o'clock
The little sleep I had was filled with dreams , dreams from which I awoke to toss restlessly . I rose and walked the floor , calling myself a fool , a silly old fool , over and over again . But when morning came my plan , a ridiculous , wild plan from which , even if it succeeded -- which was most unlikely -- nothing but added trouble and despair could possibly come , my plan was nearer its ultimate formation . At eleven o'clock that forenoon I walked up the marble steps of the Manor House and rang the bell . The butler , an exalted personage in livery , answered my ring . Mr. Heathcroft ? No , sir .