five minutes to eleven
Under ordinary circumstances such an existence was bearable and at times delightful , but just now he wanted to roar in the wilderness and assert his leonine right of roaming in desolate places not less than two geographical degrees east of Pall Mall . He went out at last and strolled towards the bridge , and across it and much farther , but not aimlessly , for though he did not always take the shortest way , he kept mainly in the same direction till he came to the Avenue Hoche . At the end of the street he stopped and looked at his watch . It was five minutes to eleven . Looking along the pavement in front of him his eye was attracted by the striped awning that distinguished Madame Bonanni 's house from the others on the same side , and he noticed an extremely smart brougham that stood just before the door . The handsome black horse stood perfectly motionless in the morning sunshine , the stony-faced English coachman sat perfectly motionless on the box , looking straight between the horse 's ears ; he wore a plain black livery that fitted to perfection and there was no cockade on his polished hat . No turnout could have been simpler and yet none could have looked more overpoweringly smart .