midnight
It was as if one stood on the edge of a precipice , and the next step would be a drop into black darkness ... * * * * * By Monday night it was over . After forty-eight hours of fever and struggle and pain , Lance Desmond lay at rest -- serene and noble in death , as he had been in life . And Roy -- having achieved one long , slow climb out of the depths -- was flung back again , deeper than ever ... . It was near midnight when the end came . Utterly weary and broken , he had sunk into Lance 's chair , leaning forward , his face hidden , his frame shaken all through with hard dry sobs that would not be stilled . Through the fog of his misery , he felt the Colonel 's hand on his shoulder ; heard the familiar voice , deep and kindly : `` My dear Roy , get to bed . We ca n't have you on the sick-list .