about nine in the morning
he inquired . `` Particularly small and particularly wicked-looking , is what the maid calls him , '' said the officer . Mr. Utterson reflected ; and then , raising his head , `` If you will come with me in my cab , '' he said , `` I think I can take you to his house . '' It was by this time about nine in the morning , and the first fog of the season . A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven , but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours ; so that as the cab crawled from street to street , Mr. Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight ; for here it would be dark like the back-end of evening ; and there would be a glow of a rich , lurid brown , like the light of some strange conflagration ; and here , for a moment , the fog would be quite broken up , and a haggard shaft 32 -RRB- of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths . The dismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses , with its muddy ways , and slatternly passengers , and its lamps , which had never been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this mournful re-invasion of darkness , seemed , in the lawyer 's eyes , like a district of some city in a nightmare .