Midnight
Nothing but a chemical analysis could show the contents of the strange brews which the insane woman made from her graveyard herbiage , and long before that could come , Harry might be dead . And so he pressed the batteries against the unconscious man 's cheeks , holding them there tightly , that the full shock of the electricity might permeate the skin and arouse the sluggish blood once more to action . Then to the hands , the wrists , the feet and back again ; it was the beginning of a routine that was to last for hours . Midnight came and early morning . With dawn , the figure on the bed stirred slightly and groaned . Fairchild looked up , to see the doctor just entering . `` I think he 's regaining consciousness . ''