six o'clock
The once pretty sitting-room looked , indeed , as if a tornado had struck it . The fireplace was a litter of broken brick and mortar ; half the floor was ripped up and the boards flung back anyhow ; table drawers and bookcases had been ransacked , and looked it ; books rifled in vain were heaped in disorderly hummocks wherever there was room for them ; everywhere a vandal hand had been , leaving behind a train of devastation and ruin . And it had all been fruitless . He had been working without pause since half-past six o'clock , and not the smallest clue had rewarded him . It was one of those interludes when early spring demonstrates that she could play August convincingly had she a mind to . The night was stifling . That the windows had to be shut tight , to deaden the noise of loosening brick and ripping board , made matters so much the worse .