the hour of four
Nothing had disturbed my vigil -- that is , nothing definite . True once , about half an hour earlier , I had thought I heard the dragging and tapping sound from somewhere up above me ; but since the corridor overhead was unfinished and none of the rooms opening upon it yet habitable , I concluded that I had been mistaken . The stairway at the end of our corridor , which communicated with that above , was still blocked with bags of cement and slabs of marble , in fact . Faintly to my ears came the booming of London 's clocks , beating out the hour of four . But still I sat beside the mysterious coffer , indisposed to awaken my friend any sooner than was necessary , particularly since I felt in no way sleepy myself . I was to learn a lesson that night : the lesson of strict adherence to a compact . I had arranged to awaken Nayland Smith at four ; and because I dallied , determined to finish my pipe ere entering his bedroom , almost it happened that Fate placed it beyond my power ever to awaken him again .