nine o'clock
It 's a furnace of a night . There goes the trumpet ; I 'll be back before long . '' His words were truer than he knew . Shortly after nine o'clock , while Mrs Olliver was persuading her semi-delirious patient to swallow two tablespoonfuls of chicken-broth , quick footsteps and the clink of spurs made her sit suddenly upright , with a listening look in her eyes . She knew the country of her service well enough to be prepared for anything at any hour of the day or night -- and she was barely surprised when , two minutes later , Desmond stood before her in his forage cap , his sword buckled on over his mess-jacket and held high to prevent it from clanking . `` What is it ? '' she asked in a hurried whisper .