Ten o’clock in the morning
`` He knows that Mr. Henfrey is living at Shapley , in Surrey . And he has been asking whether I am acquainted with you . '' A fortnight had gone by . Ten o'clock in the morning in the Puerta del Sol , that great plaza in Madrid -- the fine square which , like the similarly-named gates at Toledo and Segovia , commands a view of the rising sun , as does the ancient Temple of Abu Simbel on the Nile . Hugh Henfrey -- a smart , lithe figure in blue serge -- had been lounging for ten minutes before the long facade of the Ministerio de la Gobernacion -LRB- or Ministry of the Interior -RRB- smoking a cigarette and looking eagerly across the great square . The two soldiers on sentry at the door , suspicious of all foreigners in the days of Bolshevism and revolution , had eyed him narrowly . But he appeared to be inoffensive , so they had passed him by as a harmless lounger .