the hour of
five
The whole house swam with beer , but not with beer only ; for when , no inmate answering his call , he followed the torrent up through yet another doorway and found himself in the inn cellar , in the dim light of its iron-barred window he halted to gaze before one , two , three , a dozen casks of ale , port , sherry , brandy , all pouring their contents in a general flood upon the brick-paved floor . Here , as he afterwards confessed , his presence of mind failed him ; and small blame to him , I say ! Without a thought of turning off the taps , he waded back to the doorway and leaned there awhile to recover his wits with his breath . While he leaned , gasping , with a hand against the door-jamb , the clock in the church tower above him chimed and struck the hour of five . He gazed up at it stupidly , saw the smoke drifting through the elm-tops beyond , heard the rooks cawing over them , and then suddenly bethought himself of the bell which had clanged amid his dreams . Yes , it had been the clang of a real bell , and from his own belfry . But how could anyone have gained entrance into the church , of which he alone kept the keys ?