about half past ten o'clock
A narrow ribbon , bound tightly , might have left some such marks , it is true , and my lady protested once more that , to the best of her recollection , that must have been how they were made . Across one of the faint purple marks there was a darker tinge , as if a ring worn on one of those strong and cruel fingers had been ground into the tender flesh . `` I am sure my lady must tell white lies , '' thought Robert , `` for I ca n't believe the story of the ribbon . '' He wished his relations good-night and good-by at about half past ten o'clock ; he should run up to London by the first train to look for George in Figtree Court . `` If I do n't find him there I shall go to Southampton , '' he said ; `` and if I do n't find him there -- '' `` What then ? '' asked my lady . `` I shall think that something strange has happened . ''