Hours
He stared at his silent pocket watch suspiciously. He shook it…nothing. He tapped it gently upon the nearby wall…not a sound. He tapped it again, not so gently…still only silence. Nivens glared at the apparently faulty piece of time-keeping equipment, his deeply personal offense at a time-keeper that did not do its job apparent upon his whiskery face and in the rigid set of his furry back beneath his waistcoat. He was the White Rabbit. He was Nivens McTwisp. His watches did not fail. In his mounting upset, Nivens threw the deplorably lazy pocket watch at the stone wall before him, indulging in a March Hare-esque show of temper.
It would not be until several hours later that the White Queen herself would come upon the form of a waistcoated White Rabbit, knocked out cold on the marble floor, a large, purpling lump clear upon his head. In her concern, she hardly took notice of the quietly ticking, dented brass pocket watch beside him.