about eleven o'clock
What wonder , then , that I never arrived at Dr. Chéron 's door five minutes behind time , never missed a lecture , never forgot an appointment ? What wonder that , after dropping moodily into one or two of the theatres , I settled down quite quietly in my lodgings ; gave up my days to study ; sauntered about the lighted alleys of the Champs Elysées in the sweet spring evenings , and , going home betimes , spent an hour or two with my books , and kept almost as early hours as in my father 's house at Saxonholme ? After I had been living thus for rather longer than three weeks , I made up my mind one Sunday morning to call at Dalrymple 's rooms , and inquire if he had yet arrived in Paris . It was about eleven o'clock when I reached the Chaussée d'Antin , and there learned that he was not only arrived , but at home . Being by this time in possession of the luxury of a card , I sent one up , and was immediately admitted . I found breakfast still upon the table ; Dalrymple sitting with an open desk and cash-box before him ; and , standing somewhat back , with his elbow resting on the chimney-piece , a gentleman smoking a cigar . They both looked up as I was announced , and Dalrymple , welcoming me with a hearty grasp , introduced this gentleman as Monsieur de Simoncourt .