midnight
Everyone who has been to Holland knows the Café Tarnowski at Rotterdam . It is an immense place with hundreds of marble-topped tables tucked away among palms under a vast glazed roof . Day or night it never closes : the waiters succeed each other in shifts : day and night the great hall resounds to the cry of orders , the patter of the waiters ' feet , the click of dominoes on the marble tables . Delicious Dutch café au lait , a beefsteak and fried potatoes , most succulent of all Dutch dishes , crisp white bread , hot from the midnight baking , and appetizing Dutch butter , largely compensated for the thrills of the night . Then I sent for some more coffee , black this time , and a railway guide , and lighting a cigarette began to frame my plan of campaign . The train for Berlin left Rotterdam at seven in the morning . It was now ten minutes past two , so I had plenty of time .