four minutes to seven
`` Read , '' said Major Ranald , and the clerk in a high sing-song voice , regardless of punctuation , read out the charge , conviction and death-warrant of the man formerly calling himself John Robin Ross-Ellison , and now professing and confessing himself to be a Baluchi . Having finished , the clerk smiled as one well pleased with a duty well performed , salaamed and clacked away in his heelless slippers . `` It is my duty to inquire whether you have anything to say or any last request to make , '' said Major Ranald to the prisoner . `` Well , I 've only to say that I 'm sorry to cause all this fuss , y ' know -- and , well , yes , I _ would _ like a smoke , '' replied the condemned man , and added hastily : `` Do n't think I want to delay things for a moment though -- but if there is time ... '' `` It is four minutes to seven , '' said Major Ranald , `` and tobacco and matches are not supposed to be found in a Government Jail . '' Ross-Ellison winked at the Major and glanced at a bulge on the right side of the breast of the Major 's coat . At this moment the warder standing behind the condemned man seized both his wrists , drew them behind him and fastened them with a broad , strong strap . `` H 'm !