midnight
it 's at Lucky Murkison 's ye are , i ' the Wuddiehill . Come awa ' , an ' I s ' tak ye hame in a jiffey . '' So saying , she rose , took the candle , showed him down the stair , and followed . It was past midnight , and the moon was down , but the street-lamps were not yet extinguished , and they walked along without anything to interrupt their conversation -- chiefly about Sir Gibbie and Sir George . But perhaps if Donal had known the cause of Gibbie 's escape from the city , and that the dread thing had taken place in this woman 's house , he would not have walked quite so close to her . Poor Mistress Croale , however , had been nowise to blame for that , and the shock it gave her had even done something to check the rate of her downhill progress . It let her see , with a lightning flash from the pit , how wide the rent now yawned between her and her former respectability .