ten minutes to six
The ink dried on his pen . He was wondering . * * * In the dim cavern of Paddington Station the boat-train snorted impatiently , varying the process with an occasional sharp shriek . The hands of the station clock pointed to ten minutes to six . The platform was a confused mass of travellers , porters , baggage , trucks , boys with buns and fruits , boys with magazines , friends , relatives , and Bayliss the butler , standing like a faithful watchdog beside a large suitcase . To the human surf that broke and swirled about him he paid no attention . He was looking for the young master .