eight o'clock
Vandover passed the rest of the day in his sitting-room , the suspense of the situation slowly screwing his nerves tenser and tenser . He walked for hours back and forth , his hands clasped behind his back , his head bent down , his forehead drawn into a frown of anxiety and exasperation , or he stood for a long time at the window looking out into the street with eyes that saw nothing . At supper that night he found that his appetite had left him ; the very thought of food revolted him . He returned to his room between seven and eight o'clock , his body and mind completely fagged , feeling a crying need of some diversion , some escape from the thoughts that had been hounding him all day . He made up his mind to read a little before going to bed , and all at once remembered a book that he had once begun a long time ago but had never finished : the story of two men who had bought a wrecked opium ship for fifty thousand dollars and had afterward discovered that she contained only a few tins of the drug . He had never read on to find how that story turned out . Suddenly he found himself repeating , `` Twenty-five thousand dollars , twenty-five thousand dollars -- where will _ I _ find twenty-five thousand dollars ? ''