eight o'clock
It was a clear , frosty , starlit night . White and stern was the face which he turned upward for a moment to the sky . He paused for a second in the ray of candle-light that gleamed through Puddock 's window-shutter , and glanced on the pale dial of his large gold watch . It was only half-past eight o'clock . He walked on , glancing back over his shoulder , along the Dublin road . ` The drunken beast . My mind misgives me he 'll disappoint , ' muttered the silver spectacles , gliding briskly onward .