two o’clock
`` You 're your father 's own son , Captain , and God bless you and good luck to you and the young mistress . '' There was no answer as Harry spurred the charger down the road , but Simpson pocketed a sovereign , with the sage prophecy that things were at last , going the right way . The watchful Hugh Johnstone was already in waiting , on this very morning , at the East Indian station in Calcutta , with a sumptuous carriage ; for a telegram had warned him that the woman whom he dreaded , and had secretly doomed , was fast approaching . His heart was resolutely set upon the master stroke of his life , for a private audience with the Viceroy of India had been graciously granted him at two o'clock . `` I am saved -- if nothing goes wrong , '' he murmured , as the Delhi train trundled into the station . A steely glare lit up his eyes as he advanced with raised sun helmet to meet the Lady of the Silver Bungalow . In the train were one or two of the curious Delhi quid nuncs , who smiled and exchanged glances as the embryo Sir Hugh led the lady to the carriage .