a quarter past five
The country was all so much alike under its thick shroud of snow , that Mr. Dunbar tried in vain to distinguish any landmarks upon the way . The train by which he travelled stopped at every station ; and , though the journey between Shorncliffe and Rugby was only to last an hour , it seemed almost interminable to this impatient traveller , who was eager to stand upon the deck of Messrs. -- -- 's electric steamers , to feel the icy spray dashing into his face , and to see the town of Dover , shining like a flaming crescent against the darkness of the night , and the Calais lights in the distance rising up behind the black edge of the sea . The banker looked at his watch , and made a calculation about the time . It was now a quarter past five ; the train was to reach Rugby at ten minutes to six ; at six the London express left Rugby ; at a quarter to eight it reached London ; at half-past eight the Dover mail would leave London Bridge station ; and at half-past seven , or thereabouts , next morning , Henry Dunbar would be rattling through the streets of Paris . And then ? Was his journey to end in that brilliant city , or was he to go farther ? That was a question whose answer was hidden in the traveller 's own breast .