six o'clock
The evening papers were brutally frank in predicting that before dawn a sixth headless corpse would be discovered , and this expectation was shared by all . Carse was at home all day and refused to answer the telephone or to allow me to answer it for him . He ate sparingly , with his same preoccupation , and , contrary to my expectations , he appeared to have lapsed into a state akin to normality , like a man who contemplates a preordained and inexorable occurrence . At six o'clock he came to me , ghastly haggard and thin , and again asked me to leave his house , but I refused this zero-hour request . He shrugged and went back to his study . I watched him for a while and saw that he was studying that queer little book which so deeply affected him , and I again heard him utter those despairing words : `` God forbid ! God forbid ! ''