four o'clock
The only question is , if the Doctor here can keep him going until you 're perfect with the tune . '' And this was the question upon which the men of Looe , and especially the Die-hards , hung breathless for the next few days . M. Trinquier produced his score ; the musicianers came forward eagerly ; Miller Penrose promised his waggon ; the big drum arrived from Plymouth in the trader _ Good Intent _ , and was discharged upon the quay amid enthusiasm . The same afternoon , at four o'clock , M. Trinquier opened his first practice in the Town Hall , by playing over the air of the `` Dead Marching Soul '' -- -LRB- to this the popular mouth had converted the name -RRB- -- upon his cornet , just to give his pupils a general notion of it . The day had been a fine one , with just that suspicion of frost in the air which indicates winter on the warm south-western coast . While the musicians were assembling the Doctor stepped across the street to see how the invalid would take it . Fugler -- a sharp-featured man of about fifty , good-looking , with blue eyes and a tinge of red in his hair -- lay on his bed with his mouth firmly set and his eyes resting , wistfully almost , on the last wintry sunbeam that floated in by the geraniums on the window-ledge .