the hour of three a.m.
In the second year of her widowhood in the month of November , whilst her hair was still golden and her colouring unpurchased , she had dined _ à deux _ in one of those delectable , ghost-ridden , low-ceilinged sets of chambers which are tucked away in a certain Inn within the Fleet Street boundary . Which is a silly thing to do if you do not own a car and a long-suffering discreet chauffeur . The _ diner à deux _ and a bit of a play had been the honest programme ; but the inevitable had happened in an all-enveloping blanket of a fog , on account of which everything in the shape of a hackney carriage had gone home , and an excursion on foot to the nearest tube rendered hopeless by the simple fact that you could not see your hand before your face . Which would not have mattered a bit if only , as the fog lifted and the clock of St Dunstan 's chimed the hour of three a.m. , she had emerged from the narrow opening into Fleet Street with the aplomb or _ savoir-faire _ , which are almost twins , necessary to the occasion . She would then have beckoned to and smiled sweetly upon the young ruffian into whom she bumped as he lounged on his way to Covent Garden Market , and promised him just enough to bring her a taxi or something on wheels , into which she would have got if it had materialised , and been whirled away to safety and bed after adieux to her host uttered with the nonchalance necessary to allay the young ruffian 's suspicions . Instead of this she had slunk from the opening with her host close behind , had bumped into the young ruffian and with an exclamation of dismay had shrunk back into the shadows and her host 's arms . In consequence of which action the bare-footed ruffian had shadowed them until they had met a four-wheeler , had held the lady 's dress from the wheel and overheard the address given to the driver for which he had received tuppence , and had disappeared into a doorway where he had spat on his unearned increment and made his plans .