midnight
cried the lady , who had got into a terrible fright . The Baron twice essayed the feat , but each time a heavy blow over the knuckles from the butt-end of the whip forced him to desist . The lady burst into tears . The Baron swore in five languages alternately , and still the cab pursued its headlong career through deserted midnight streets , past infrequent policemen and stray belated revellers , on into an unknown wilderness of brick . `` Oh , do n't let him murder me ! '' sobbed the lady . `` Haf cheer , fairest ; he shall not vile I am viz you !