eleven o’clock
The castle to-night was as gloomy as the meads . As Havill had explained , the habitable rooms were just now undergoing a scour , and the main block of buildings was empty even of the few servants who had been retained , they having for comfort 's sake taken up their quarters in the detached rooms adjoining the entrance archway . Hence not a single light shone from the lonely windows , at which ivy leaves tapped like woodpeckers , moved by gusts that were numerous and contrary rather than violent . Within the walls all was silence , chaos , and obscurity , till towards eleven o'clock , when the thick immovable cloud that had dulled the daytime broke into a scudding fleece , through which the moon forded her way as a nebulous spot of watery white , sending light enough , though of a rayless kind , into the castle chambers to show the confusion that reigned there . At this time an eye might have noticed a figure flitting in and about those draughty apartments , and making no more noise in so doing than a puff of wind . Its motion hither and thither was rapid , but methodical , its bearing absorbed , yet cautious . Though it ran more or less through all the principal rooms , the chief scene of its operations was the Long Gallery overlooking the Pleasance , which was covered by an ornamental wood-and-plaster roof , and contained a whole throng of family portraits , besides heavy old cabinets and the like .