Three o’clock
He did not speak , but answered with that undulating movement of open hands which meant neither good , nor bad . Then he sat down beside the bed , still silent , impenetrable , looking at Benedetto , who had sunk upon his back once more , and no longer looked at him , but was gazing at the specks of light in the immense expanse of blue . `` Professor , '' he said , `` what time is it ? '' `` Three o'clock . '' `` At five you must send for the priest from Bocca della Verità . '' `` Very well . '' `` Will it be too late ? ''