seven in the evening
`` It is not the hour -- quoi ? '' the soldier remarked with laconic philosophy . It apparently was not the hour when the prison registers were placed at the disposal of the public . After much fruitless inquiry , Armand at last was informed by a bon bourgeois , who was wandering about the house of Justice and who seemed to know its multifarious rules , that the prison registers all over Paris could only be consulted by the public between the hours of six and seven in the evening . There was nothing for it but to wait . Armand , whose temples were throbbing , who was footsore , hungry , and wretched , could gain nothing by continuing his aimless wanderings through the labyrinthine building . For close upon another hour he stood with his face glued against the ironwork which separated him from the female prisoners ' courtyard .