noon
There was at that time in Montreal a sort of news room and public exchange , which made a place of general meeting . It was supplied with newspapers and the like , and kept up by subscriptions of the town merchants -- a spacious room made out of the old Methodist chapel on St. Joseph Street . I knew this for a place of town gossip , and hoped I might hit upon something to aid me in my errand , which was no more than begun , it seemed . Entering the place shortly before noon , I made pretense of reading , all the while with an eye and an ear out for anything that might happen . As I stared in pretense at the page before me , I fumbled idly in a pocket , with unthinking hand , and brought out to place before me on the table , an object of which at first I was unconscious -- the little Indian blanket clasp . As it lay before me I felt seized of a sudden hatred for it , and let fall on it a heavy hand . As I did so , I heard a voice at my ear . ''