six o’clock
How persistently the voice of Phil Abingdon rang in his ears ! He could not forget her lightest words . How hopelessly her bewitching image intruded itself between his reasoning mind and the problem upon which he sought to concentrate . Miss Smith , the typist , had gone , for it was after six o'clock , and Innes alone was on duty . He came in as Harley , placing his hat and cane upon the big writing table , sat down to study the report . `` Inspector Wessex rang up , Mr. Harley , about an hour ago . He said he would be at the Yard until six . ''