twelve
o'clock at night
It was enough ! I felt my nerves collapse , and my circulation fail , and for the remainder of that dreadful night I was speechless . I was not , however , blind , or so far gone as to be unable to notice in a vague sort of way what happened . The young gentleman rejoicing in the name of Cadger -LRB- but whose real cognomen I subsequently ascertained to be Stumpy Walker -RRB- proceeded on his walk , whistling shrilly to himself , exchanging a passing recognition with one and another loafer , and going out of his way to kick every boy he saw smaller than himself , which last exertion , by the way , at twelve o'clock at night he did not find very often necessary . I observed that he did not go out of his way to avoid the police ; on the contrary , he made a point of touching his hat to every guardian of the peace he happened to meet , and actually went so far as to inform one that `` he 'd want his muckintogs before morning '' -- a poetical way of prophesying rain . He proceeded down a succession of back streets , which it would have puzzled a stranger to remember , till he came into a large deserted thoroughfare which was undergoing a complete renovation of its drainage arrangements . All along the side of the road extended an array of huge new pipes , some three feet in diameter , awaiting their turn underground .