midnight
It was a quarter to eleven . `` Viens , '' she said . He followed her , his knees trembling a little from excitement , up the steep stairs . The deep broken strokes of the town clock had just begun to strike midnight when Fuselli hurried in the camp gate . He gave up his pass jauntily to the guard and strolled towards his barracks . The long shed was pitch black , full of a sound of deep breathing and of occasional snoring . There was a thick smell of uniform wool on which the sweat had dried .