twenty minutes to eleven
It was the lantern . Like a fool he had forgotten to blow it out , and an abominable smell of oil and burning cloth now arose from his pocket . He stifled the smouldering fire , pulled out the lantern , and looked at his watch . It wanted twenty minutes to eleven . He had plenty of time ; so , having extinguished the lantern , and bestowed it in another pocket , he caught up his burden and began to walk up the road at a leisurely pace . His terrors had cooled , but nevertheless he wished himself well out of the scrape . The report of the gun still rang in his ears and in fancy he could hear again the buzz of that bullet by his ear .