A quarter to eleven
and a shrill thrilling _ Whir-r-r _ of the bell , announced the arrival of the Duke of -- , the last guest . It was a large and plain carriage , but perfectly well known ; and before the door of the house at which it had drawn up had been opened , displaying some four or five servants standing in the hall , in simple but elegant liveries , some half-dozen passengers had stopped to see get out of the carriage an elderly , middle-sized man , with a somewhat spare figure , dressed in plain black clothes , with iron-gray hair , and a countenance which , once seen , was not to be forgotten . That was a great man ; one , the like of whom many previous centuries had not seen ; whose name shot terror into the hearts of all the enemies of old England all over the world , and fond pride and admiration into the hearts of his fellow-countrymen . `` A quarter to eleven ! '' he said , in a quiet tone , to the servant who was holding open the carriage door -- while the bystanders took off their hats ; a courtesy which he acknowledged , as he slowly stepped across the pavement , by touching his hat in a mechanical sort of way with his forefinger . The house-door then closed upon him ; the handful of onlookers passed away ; off rolled the empty carriage , and all without was quiet as before . The house was that of Mr. Aubrey , one of the members for the borough of YATTON , in Yorkshire -- a man of rapidly rising importance in Parliament .