midnight
I inquired . '' ` Only an old rhyme so obscure as to be quite unintelligible : He who plucks a rose at Yule Will bring back luck to Dacrepool . Even you , with your fondness for antiquities and rummaging strange things out of old books , can scarcely make anything of that , I should say . ' `` I shook my head , for the riddle seemed quite unreadable , and as we had already sat up until long past midnight I begged for my candle , and proposed to defer our conversation until the morning . Jack , declaring that none of the beds in the damp old house was fit to sleep in without a week of previous airing , insisted upon giving up his room to me , and passing the night himself on the dining-room sofa , and , in spite of my protestations , I was forced to acquiesce in his plans for my comfort . `` Left alone , I looked with some curiosity round the gloomy oak-paneled chamber , where the fire-light flashed on the carved four-poster , with its faded yellow damask curtains , and lit up the moth-eaten tapestry that adorned a portion of the upper part of the walls , but scarcely illumined the dark corners which lay beyond . There were quaint old presses and chests roomy enough to hide a dozen ghosts in , and a portrait of a gentleman in the elaborate costume of the Stuart period seemed to look down upon me with strangely haunting eyes . ''