eleven o'clock
She was his only enemy -- if you could call the crazy creature who had been poor Milly 's companion an enemy . The odious personality of the absurdly named Julia Pigchalke was still very present to him as he turned and joined his men guests in the beautiful camber-roofed and linen-panelled room known as the hall . She was the one fly , albeit a very small fly , in the ointment of his deep content . It was a good deal more than an hour later -- in fact nearer twelve than eleven o'clock -- when young Donnington got up from the comfortable chair where he had been ensconced , and put down the book which he had been reading . All the other men of the party , with the exception of old Mr. Burnaby -- who had gone to bed for good after his dramatic bolt from the drawing-room -- had disappeared some time ago . But Donnington had stayed on downstairs , absorbed in a curious , privately printed book containing the history of Wyndfell Hall . Suddenly his eyes fell on the following passage : `` Every piece of the furniture in ` the White Parlour , ' as it is still called , is of historic value and interest .