midnight
`` Good-night . '' Boylan put his soul in it . He loved the Russians . It was far this side of midnight , but he smelled the dawn . Back in his own quarters , as he yawned largely at the flickering shadows of the freshly-lit candle , he noted Peter 's saddle bags on the floor , and considered that it might be well to get them over to-night . Peter walked the room , a changing star or two in the windy skylight ; a candle in the center by the stair-door where the sentry stood ; Berthe watching him steadily from her chair . The others at the far end looked up occasionally .