quarter after three
McTosh , of the gum-shoe tread , shuffled courses dextrously . An under-steward assisted in the presentation of the viands , another manipulated dishes in the hidden precincts of the pantry . The service was swift and noiseless , but not more so than the passage of time . The hands of the little clock fastened against the forward bulkhead already stood at quarter after three . Mary 's eyes , which had been resting on the candidate , turned back to Varney , and they were shining . `` Seriously , Mr. Varney , '' she said in a lowered voice -- `` how could any one possibly be buried in a town where Mr. Hare is ? '' `` Mr. Hare ? ''