midnight
And it came then to Lanyard that he drove no more alone : Death was his passenger . Absorbed though he was with the control of his machine and the ever-shifting problems of the road , he still found time to think quite clearly of himself , to recognize the fact that he was very likely looking his last on Paris ... on life ... . But a little longer , and the name of Michael Lanyard would be not even a memory to those whose lives composed the untiring life of this broad avenue . Before him the Arc de Triomphe loomed ever larger and more darkly beautiful against the field of midnight stars He wondered , would he reach it alive ... . He did : still the pursuit bided its time . But the hood of the touring-car nosed him inexorably round the arch , away from the avenue de la Grande Armée and into the avenue du Bois . Only when in full course for Porte Dauphine did he appreciate De Morbihan 's design .