midnight
As I passed out of the station , I had a fleeting glimpse of a gray figure stepping into a big car , driven by a black chauffeur . Half-past twelve was striking as I came out of the terminus , buttoning up my overcoat , and pulling my soft hat firmly down upon my head , started to walk to Hyde Park Corner . I had declined the services of the several taxi-drivers who had accosted me and had determined to walk a part of the distance homeward , in order to check the fever of excitement which consumed me . Already I was ashamed of the strange fears which had been mine during the journey , but I wanted to reflect , to conquer my mood , and the midnight solitude of the land of Squares which lay between me and Hyde Park appealed quite irresistibly . There is a distinct pleasure to be derived from a solitary walk through London , in the small hours of an April morning , provided one is so situated as to be capable of enjoying it . To appreciate the solitude and mystery of the sleeping city , a certain sense of prosperity -- a knowledge that one is immune from the necessity of being abroad at that hour -- is requisite . The tramp , the night policeman and the coffee-stall keeper know more of London by night than most people -- but of the romance of the dark hours they know little .