seven o'clock
He had drawn his chair close to the fire , and on a table near his elbow were arranged the open despatch-box , a tall crystal jug of Burgundy , with a goblet-shaped glass , on a salver , and a case of cigars . Until long after dark that evening , Henry Dunbar sat by the fire , smoking and drinking , and reading the manuscript volume . He only paused now and then to take pencil-notes of its contents in a little memorandum-book , which he carried in the breast-pocket of his coat . It was not till seven o'clock , when the liveried servant who waited upon him came to inform him that his dinner was served in an adjoining chamber , that Mr. Dunbar rose from his seat and put away the book in the despatch-box . He laid down the volume on the table while he replaced other papers in the box , and it fell open at the first page . On that first page was written , in Henry Dunbar 's bold , legible hand -- '' _ Journal of my life in India , from my arrival in 1815 until my departure in 1850 . _ '' This was the book the banker had been studying all that winter 's day .