eight o'clock
Ha , ha , ha ! '' There was something so uncanny about his host 's manner , and his evident conviction of the origin of the wavering figures on the wall -LRB- which had now disappeared -RRB- , that Arthur felt , had it not been for Angela , he would not be sorry to get clear of him and his shadows as soon as possible , for superstition , he knew , is as contagious as small-pox . When at length he reached his great bare bed-chamber , not , by the way , a comfortable sort of place to sleep in after such an experience , it was only after some hours , in the excited state of his imagination , that , tired though he was , he could get the rest he needed . Next morning , when they met at their eight o'clock breakfast , Arthur noticed that Angela was distressed about something . `` There is bad news , '' she said , almost before he greeted her ; `` my cousin George is very ill with typhus fever . '' `` Indeed ! '' remarked Arthur , rather coolly .