the hour of seven
In this note we were assured that the friendly verger of last night 's adventure would be lurking in the neighbourhood of Carmona 's house as early as six o'clock , and should we want him we would know where he was to be found . We took bedrooms , bathed , dressed again , and after hot coffee and rolls decided that is was time to go on guard . To be sure , it was absurdly early ; but by this time the Duke 's household might be astir , and we must not risk letting Monica be carried away before we had had a chance to practise the gentle art of housebreaking . The clocks of Seville were spasmodically telling the hour of seven when we entered the narrow and dusky lane of the Calle de las Dueñas . So fast asleep were the shuttered windows that our mission seemed a fool 's errand ; but as we came in sight of the Duke 's closed door the Cherub 's messenger loomed out of the shadows . Unshaven and haggard , his eyes glittered like black beads in the daylight ; and he greeted us excitedly . `` Señores , '' he began , `` I was going to look for you at the hotel .