midnight
He went up to his room and weighed his duty to himself and to some unshaped rules of courtesy and conduct that he had inherited from a house more renowned for its sense of ceremonial honour , perhaps , than for commoner virtues . His instinct as a stranger in a most remarkable dwelling , creeping with mystery and with numberless evidences of things sinister and perhaps malevolent , told him it was fair to make a reconnaissance , even if no more was to be discovered than a servant 's sordid amours . On the other hand , he could not deny to himself that there was what the Baronne de Chenier would have called the little Lyons shopkeeper in the suspicions he had against his host , and in the steps he proposed to take to satisfy his curiosity . He might have debated the situation with himself till midnight , or as long as Mungo 's candles lasted him , had not a shuffling and cautious step upon the stair suggested that some one was climbing to the unused chambers above . Putting punctilio in his pocket , he threw open his door , and had before him a much-perplexed Baron of Doom , wrapped from neck to heel in a great plaid of sombre tartan and carrying a candle ! Doom stammered an inaudible excuse . `` Pardon ! ''