He hastily smoothed his hair, looked to the flame of his bright little lamp and made a trip of inspection round the room.
Everything was in order.

He was almost glad that they were to come at night, for the lamplight seemed to lend a more cheerful look to the room.
The Turkey-red cotton counterpane on the bed looked particularly well, the Count thought.

During the next fifteen minutes he walked about, rubbing his hands softly together.

At the first stroke of the following quarter he stood still and listened intently.
Four quarters struck, and then the big bell began to toll the hour.

It must be eleven, he thought, as he counted the strokes.