midnight
I had paused that afternoon before the grille of an old garden , softly called to stop by the scent of the lilacs -- and because I had ever loved the scent of lilacs a man might die that night . No one came out of the house where Gaston Cheverny battled with death . The lights burned steadily in the saloon which communicated with the bedchamber where we had carried the wounded man , and the room remained empty , so I knew Gaston Cheverny still lived . Some time after midnight the valet came out running . I ran after him to ask how his master fared . `` Very bad , '' replied the poor fellow . `` I go for another physician now . ''