an hour after midnight
Presently the distant lights were no longer distant , but near , nearer , close at hand -- the lights of the outposts of the camp . A sentinel started out from the quoin of a wall to stop us , but when we had told our errand he became as friendly as a brother . He went across the road into a neighbouring tournebride to report to the officer of the guard , and came back presently with a torch and the order to take us to the Duke of St. Quentin 's lodging . It was near an hour after midnight , and St. Denis was in bed . Save for a drowsy patrol here and there , we met no one . Fewer than the patrols were the lanterns hung on ropes across the streets ; these were the only lights , for the houses were one and all as dark as tombs . Not till we had reached the middle of the town did we see , in the second story of a house in the square , a beam of light shining through the shutter-chink .