Saturdays, ten o'clock
`` Relatives , with a permit , '' divulged the warden , who , if he had had a sceptre would have used it at table , he was so fond of his little power , `` and the Readers ' Guild . '' `` Ah -- the Readers ' Guild , '' said St. George . `` What days , Mr. Jeffrey ? '' `` To-day and Saturdays , ten o'clock . I 'm sorry , Mr. St. George , but I 'm a very busy man and now -- '' `` Good-by , '' St. George cried triumphantly . In half an hour he was at the Grand Central station , boarding a train for the Reformatory town . It was a little after ten o'clock when he rang the bell at the house presided over by Chillingworth 's `` rabble of wild eagles . ''