Now he listened to the faint monotonous ticking it made close to his head until he felt an impelling drowsiness creeping over him and he closed his eyes.

He was almost asleep when it struck again--softly, and yet with sufficient loudness to arouse him.

It had struck twelve.
With an effort Howland overcame his drowsiness and dragged himself to a sitting posture, knowing that he should undress and go to bed.

The lamp was still burning brightly and he arose to turn down the wick.

Suddenly he stopped.