midnight
It was nearly ten when Gilbert returned to the chambers , and all was still quiet , that heavy slumber continuing ; an artificial sleep at the best , produced by one of Mr. Mew 's sedatives . The sofa had been wheeled from the bedroom to the sitting-room , and placed in a comfortable corner by the fire . There were preparations too for a cup of tea , to be made and consumed at any hour agreeable to the watcher ; a small teakettle simmering on the hob ; a tray with a cup and saucer , and queer little black earthenware teapot , on the table ; a teacaddy and other appliances close at hand , -- all testifying to the grateful attention of the vanished Pratt . Gilbert shared the nurse 's watch till past midnight . Long before that John Saltram woke from his heavy sleep , and there was more of that incoherent talk so painful to hear -- talk of people that were dead , of scenes that were far away , even of those careless happy wanderings in which those two college friends had been together ; and then mere nonsense talk , shreds and patches of random thought , that scorned to be drawn from some rubbish-chamber , some waste-paper basket of the brain . It was weary work . He woke towards eleven , and a little after twelve dropped asleep again ; but this time , the effect of the sedative having worn off , the sleep was restless and uneasy .