one o'clock
The moaning which Bob had heard earlier in the evening recommenced . Happily , it was not to be one of her bad nights . Fits of the horrors only came upon her twice before morning . Towards one o'clock Stephen had sunk into a sleep which scarcely any conceivable uproar could have broken ; he lay with his head on his right arm , his legs stretched out at full length ; his breathing was light . Bob was much later in getting rest . As often as he slumbered for an instant , the terrible image of his fear rose manifest before him ; he saw himself in the clutch of his hunters , just like Jack Bartley , and woke to lie quivering . Must not that be the end of it , sooner or later ?