Ten past seven
Come along , we may as well wait inside as in this beastly draught . '' In the great dining-hall the snowy-covered tables were being taken rapidly by members about to dine ; silent-footed waiters were hurrying to and fro , carrying out their various duties , while intermittently the sound of opening champagne bottles mingled with the buzz of conversation and the ripple of laughter . The three men , Mortimer Shelton , Lord Standon and Frank Parselle , seated themselves at a table in a comfortable recess and took stock of the room , responding to numerous nods and smiles of recognition , while grumbling at the unpunctuality of their friend . `` Ten past seven ! '' groaned Shelton , looking at his watch . `` I might have known that Leroy would be late . Shall we wait ? ''