midnight
I raised my hat and she passed out of the gardens , graceful and strong , after a slight movement of the head to me , her hands in the muff , crumpling the cruel Petersburg letter . On returning home I opened the newspaper I receive from London , and glancing down the correspondence from Russia -- not the telegrams but the correspondence -- the first thing that caught my eye was the name of Haldin . Mr. de P -- ` s death was no longer an actuality , but the enterprising correspondent was proud of having ferreted out some unofficial information about that fact of modern history . He had got hold of Haldin 's name , and had picked up the story of the midnight arrest in the street . But the sensation from a journalistic point of view was already well in the past . He did not allot to it more than twenty lines out of a full column . It was quite enough to give me a sleepless night .